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No. 18. THE "MAGNET" HAND BOOKS. 




HAWTHORNE'S 

60Mie F^E6ITEF(. 



FILLED WITH 



THE LIVELIEST, JOLLIEST, LAUGHTER- 
PROVOKING STORIES, LECTURES, AND 
OTHER HUMOROUS PIECES. 



FITTED TO KEEP 

AUDIENCB IN A ROAR, AND TO DRIVE AWAY DULL CARE* 

SUITABLE FOR RECITATION IN 

PUBLIC HALLS AND PRIVA TE PARTIES. 



\k \-\t.\i 






NEW YORK: <?. & 

HTJRST & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
122 NASSAU STREET. 

' 

Copyright, 1881, by Hurst & Co. 



wr 



PREFACE. 



We have got together in this book all the very best 

Humorous Pieces to be found anywhere. They are not only 

funny in themselves, but they are possessed of that quality 

of humor which expressly fits them for Recitation. The 

lieces are of every imaginable style and nationality. Poetry 

nd Prose interwoven. While those who revel in "taking 

" the Yankee, the Paddy, the Deutscher, and the Ethiop- 

will here find from one to a dozen articles just suited to 

special gifts and peculiarities; others who tickle tho 

^s of an audience by talking in plain English, will find 

themselves well catered for. 

The Author. 



CONTENTS. 

TITLES. AUTHORS. PAGE 

Home Attractions, Anonymous. 9 

Jester's Essay on Fools, (A) . . Anonymous. 10 

Kissing on the Street, .... Anonymous. 12 

Vas Bender Henshpecked ? 13 

My Josiali, Cousin Madge. 15 

Scandalous, Anonymous. 16 

Woman, Pompey ISquash. 19 

"Who's Who ? Anonymous. 21 

Niam Niams, Anonymous. 23 

Schnitzerl's Velocipede, . . Hans Breitmann. 25 

Bachelor's Woes, (A) Anonymous. 26 

Jerks Prognosticates, .... Anonymous. 27 

Keep to the Right, .... Anonymous. 28 

Jacob Witte's Speech, .... Oliver Optic. 28 

Fairy, (The) Anonymous. 30 

Woman's Rights, .... Kitty Glwerful. 30 

Beautiful Ballad of Waska Wee, . . Anonymous. 32 

March of Intellect, .... Anonymous. 34 

Josh Billings' Lecturing Raid through the State of Maine. 35 

Reform in Windows, .... Anonymous. 37 

Love and Firearms, .... Anonymous. 39 

Ballad of a Butcher, (The) . . . Anonymous. 39 

Hard Lives, A. Brute. 40 

Der Baby, Anonymous. 41 

Clown's Description of Himself and Parentage, Anon. 42 

Bachelors and Flirts Josh Billings. 44 

Smith, the Razor Strop Man, ..... 45 

Half-Way Doin's, .... Irwin Russell. 46 

Speaking* for the Sheriff, . . . .8. Stubbs. 47 

Village Sewing Society, .... Anonymous. 49 

How Mother did It, . . . Anonymous. 50 

Apples and their Application, . . Fat Contributor. 52 

Sally Hayes, , Anonymous. 54 

Nobody, Anonymous. 55 

Why is He an Actor, .... Anonymous 56 

What is a Bachelor Like ? Anonymous. 57 

Wants of the Ages, .... Anonymaus. 59 

Permot O'Dowd, Anonymous. 60 

Hard-Shell Sermon, (A) . . .A. Greeny. 61 

How Ub Vas Dot For High? . . Oofty Gooft. 62 






b CONTENTS. 




Pat's Letter, 


. Anonymous. 


G4 


" Dead Beat "in Pol i tics, 


. U. B. Green. 


05 


Thin Man from Dayton, . 


. Anonymous. 


07 


That Hired Girl, . 


Anonymous. 


09 


Love and Murder, . 


Anonymous. 


71 


Female Tenderness, 


. Douglas Jerrold. 


72 


Menagerie, (The) 


Honeywell. 


74 


Boys' Rights, 


. By One of 'Em. 


75 


Tale of Love, (A) 


A. L. Harvey. 


76 


Knock at the Door, (The) 


Anonymous. 


77 


Stump Speech, . 


Anonymous. 


78 


Pat Contrives to Save his Bacon, 


. Anonymous. 


81 


Disappointment, (The) 


. G. F. Morris. 


83 


Hard Times, .... 


.Anonymous. 


m 


What Became of a Lie, . 


. Mrs. M. A. Kidder. 


85 


Just his Luck, .... 


. Anonymous. 


86 


Lodge Night, 


Anonymous. 


86 


Chickens, 


. Bose Terry Cook. 


88 


Old Si Pilots a 'Possum Hunt, 




90 


Agricultural Address, 


Washington WMtehorn 


92 


Kiss in School, (The) 


. Palmer. 


94 


Josh Billings on Gongs, 




95 


Higher, .... 


. Anonymous. 


96 


Quiet Mr. Smith, 


Fanny Fern. 


97 


To the Terrestrial Globe, 


A Miserable Wretch. 


98 


Exclamatory, 


Anonymous. 


99 


Praise of Little Women, 


. Jean Reeiz de Hita 1( 


Speech Making, 


. Anonymous. 


102 


Seven Stages of Drunkenness, 


Anonymous. 


103 


Goat, (The) .... 


. Anonymous. 


104 


Xot So Easy, 


Anonymous. 


105 


Corns, 


. Anonymous. 


106 


Train of Circumstances, (A) 


. Fits- Green. 


107 


Close, Hard Man, (The) 


Anonymous. 


107 


Paddy's Version of Excelsior, 


Anonymous. 


108 


Lines on Fools, 


. Anonymous. 


110 


Loves, 


Anonymous. 


110 


Poet, (The) .... 


. Anonymous. 


111 


y&Iacbeth's Soliloquy Altered, 


Anonymous. 


111 


Deck Hand and the Mule. (The) 




112 


Jack Sprat, .... 


. ' . W. W. Dans. 


113 


Word With You, (A) 




115 


Ass and the Violinist, (The) 


John G. Saxe. 


115 


Romeo and Juliet, 


Anonymous. 


117 


State of the Market, 


. Anonymous. 


119 


Romance in a Thimble, (A) . 


Anonymous. 


119 



THE COMIC EECITER. 



HOME ATTRACTIONS. 

As homeward comes the married man, 

He's met by wife at door, 
With fond embrace and loving kiss, 

And — ' ' Baby's throat is sore 1 

"And did you think to stop at Brown's 

And get that marabout 
I ordered yesterday ? — And, dear, 

Fred's boots are all worn out ! 

*" I'm glad you are so early, John, 

So much I miss you dear — 
I've had a letter from mamma ; 



"How very glad you look, dear John, 
I knew that you would be — 

The flour's out, the butter, and 
You must send home some tea. 

" That plumber has been here again — 

If you don't pay he'll sue ; 
And Mr Pendergast called in 

To say your rent was due. 

" Fred's trousers are half cotton, John, 
You thought they were all wool — 

Oh ! that reminds me that your son 
Was whipped to-day at school. 






10 a jester's essay on fools. 

• ' The roof has leaked and spoiled the rugs 

Upon the upper hall ; 
And Jane must go, the careless thing, 

She let the mirror fall. 

" To-day, as she was moving it 
(The largest one, dear John), 

Of course it broke ; it also broke 
The lamp it fell upon. 

" What makes you look so grave, my love? 

Take off your things and wipe 
Your feet — and only think, to-day 

Jane broke your meerschaum pipe. 

" O, John ! that horrid, horrid word 1 

You do not love me, dear ; 
I wish that I — boo-hoo — were dead — 

You're cross as any bear." 



A JESTER'S ESSAY ON FOOLS. 

" There never was a character on the great stage of life or 
the drama so much misunderstood as the one I am endeavor- 
ing to pourtray. It is generally supposed that the clown or 
the fool of the olden time was a low, illiterate buffoon, who 
delighted to throw his limbs into horrible contortions, to wal- 
low out his tongue and roll his eyes, and, as Shakespeare 
says, ' commit such fantastic tricks before high heaven as to 
make the angels weep.' But such is not the fact. The fool 
of the ancient day was a scholar and a gentleman, when the 
kings and queens of his country could neither read nor write. 
Besides this, the clown or fool had a higher and a holier 
province. He was the pioneer of human intelligence and 
manly independence. It was he who first stood up for the 
downtrodden rights and privileges of thegreat human family. 
You see. the fool was kept by kings, queens, and courts to 



a jester's essay on fools. 11 

amuse them in their hours of leisure ; and it was he who, 
under the garb of laughter, dared to tell those wholesome 
truths to the very teeth of tyrants that greater men would 
have lost their heads for. But now ' Othello's occupation's 
gone.' It is no use being a fool nowadays — not it, indeed ! 
Five hundred years ago— that was the time to be a fool ! In 
those days fools were great men ; but things are altered now, 
for great men are fools. In the olden time fools were well 
paid ; but now, like every other trade, profession, or busi- 
ness, there is so much opposition, and so many people make 
fools of themselves for nothing, that the trade is not worth 
following. Now, Shakespeare says, ' Let me play the fool ! 
with mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; and rather 
let my liver heat with wine than my heart cool with morti- 
fying groans.' Now, there is a reason for being a fool ; but 
the generality of fools are fools because they have no reason. 
But I am a fool, and I give you a reason for being a fool. 
Consequently, being a fool and having a reason I am a 
reasonable fool. But there are so many kinds of fools. 
There are fools in their own right, and fools in their own 
wrong. There are fools for nothing, and there are fools for 
interest. Now, I am a fool for interest — that is, I am a fool, 
and I find it to my interest to be a fool. Therefore, being a 
fool, and having an interest, I ought to be considered an in- 
terested and an interesting fool. At the same time I must be 
a fool for principle, because if I had no principal I could 
have no interest, because interest is derived from principal. 
And when I show I have an interest, that proves I have a 
principle ; consequently, I am a principled fool. But there are 
old fools and young fools ; satirical fools and drunken fools — 
who are the worst of all fools. Yes, if I had a voice that 
would echo from hill to hill, and vibrate through every val- 
ley, I would cry aloud, without the fear of contradiction, that 
drunken fools are the worst of all fools — except teetotal 
fools. That reminds me of what I saw in Manchester the 
other day. In one gutter I saw a pig ; in the other the 
semblance of a man. The pig was sober, the man was 
drunk. The pig had a ring in his nose, the other animal had 
one on his finger. The pig grunted ; so did the man ; and I 



12 KISSING IN THE STREET. 

said aloud, ' We are known by the company we keep,' and 
the pig heard me and walked away, ashamed to be seen in 
the company of the drunken man. Shakespeare says, • All's 
well that ends well,' so I finish with the pig, because I think 
the tale ends well when there is a pig at the end of it." — Era. 



KISSING IN THE STREET. 

Bid you ever notice, mortals — 

Now I'll bet a cent you did — 
How the ladies — pretty creatures — 

Can't keep their feelings hid ? 
But they are kissing out in public, 

Kissing everywhere they meet ; 
Kiss — kiss at church and shopping, 

And — kissing — in the street ! 

Behold a charming maiden, 

Arrayed in fashion's hight, 
She meets upon the sidewalk 

A friend she saw last night : 
" How are you, my darling Nellie? 

How glad I am to meet " — 
Then a dainty shake of fingers, 

And — kissing — in tlie street ! 

A bachelor beside us 

Says, " Pity that is done 
So much, for I am certain 

It can't be any fun : 
This kissing out in public, 

Kissing everywhere they meet, 
Kiss, kiss, at church and shopping 

And — kissing — in the street/ 

" But the secret great is this, sir : 
The maiden has no beau — 

No gentleman to kiss her ; 
She must her feelings show, 



VAS BENDER HENSHPECKED ? 13 

By kissing out in public, 

Kissing all she may meet, 
Kissing, kiss at church and shopping, 

And — kissing— in the street! 

Now, merry-hearted maidens, 

And women more discreet, 
Give over this bad habit 

Of kissing in the street. 
Remember that false traitor 

Who knelt at Jesus' feet, 
And don't become a greater 

By kissing in the street. 

Be noble-minded women, 

With hearts attuned to right 
Then shall each see the other, 

As those who dwell in light 
But never for an instant, 

Whoever you may meet, 
Be caught like silly noodles, 

A-kissing in the street. 



VAS BENDER HENSHPECKED? 

VON BOYLE. 

Ant shentleman vot vill go round pehind your face, und 
talk in front of your back apout sometings, vas a shvindler. 
I heard dot Brown says veek before next, apout me, I vas a 
henshpecked huspand. Dot vas a lie ! De proof of de eat- 
ing vas in de puddings ; I am married tventy year already, 
und I vas yet not paid-headed. I don't vas oonder some 
petty goats gofernments ; shtill I tinks it vas petter if a fel- 
ler vill insult mit his wife, und got her advises apout some- 
tings or oder. 

Dem American vomans don't know sometings nefer about 
his huspant's peesness, und vhen dem hart times comes, und 






14 VAS BENDER HENSHPECKED ? 

not so much money comes in de house, dot makes not some 
tifference mit her. Shtill she moost have vone of dot pull- 
pack-in-de front hoop-shirt-pettygoats, mit every kind trim- 
mings. Pooty soon dot huspand gets pankerupted all to 
pieces. Dey send for de doctor ; und ven de doctor comes de 
man dies. Den dot voman vas opliged to marry mit anoder 
mans vot she don't maype like, mit four or six shildrens on 
account of his first vife already, und possobably vone or two 
mudders-by-law — vone second-handed, und de oder a shtep- 
mudder-out-law. Den she says mit herself, "I efen vish 
dot I vas dead a little." 

Now, if a German goes dead, dot don't make a pit of tiffer- 
ence. Nopody vould hardly know it, except maybe himself. 
His vife goes mit de beesness on shust like notings has hap- 
pened to somepody. 

American vomans and Germans vomans vas a tifferent kind 
of people. For inshtinct, last year dot same feller, Mr. 
Brown, goes mit me in de putcher-peesuess togeder. He 
vas American man — so vas his vife. Veil, many times ven 
efery peoples has got de panic pooty bad, dot vomans comes 
to her huspant, und says she moost have money. Den she 
goes out riding mit a carriages. 

Vonce on a time, Brown says to me, "Bender, I vouldn't 
be henshpecked. " So he vent off , und got himself tight — 
shust pecause his vife tells him, blease don't do dot. Den he 
sits down on his pack mit de floor, und if I am not dere dot 
time he never vould got home. 

Veil, dot night, me und my vife, ve had a little talk apout 
sometings ; und de next tay I says to Brown, ' ' Look here 
vonst ! My vife she makes sausages, and vorks in dot shtore ; 
also my taughter she vorks py de shtore, und makes head- 
sheeses ; und your vife vas going out riding all de times mit 
de horses-car, und a patent-tied-pack, cardinal shtriped 
shtockings. Now, your vife moost go vork in de shtore, und 
cut peefshteaks, und make sauer-kraut, or else ve divide not 
equally any more dot profits." 

Veil, Brown goes home, und he tells his vife apout dot. 
Den she comes pooty quick mit Brown around, und ve had a 
misundershtanding apout sometings, in vich eferypody took 



MY JOSIAR. 15 

a part, including my leetle dog Kaiser. Pooty soon up comes 
a policemans, und arrests us for breeches of promise to keep 
de pieces, und assaulting de battery, or sometings. Den de 
firm of Bender & Brown vas proke up. I go apout my pees- 
ness, und Brown goes mit bis peesness. My vife she helps 
in de shtore. His vife goes riding mit de horses-cars, und 
efery night she vas py de theatre. 

Vot'sde gonsequences ? Along comes dot Centennial panic. 
Dot knocks Brown more higher as two kites, py Chimminy ! 
My income vas shtill more as my outcome. But Brown, he 
goes round dot shtreets mit his hands out of his pockets, 
und he don't got a cent to his back. 



MY JOSIAR. 

COUSIN MADGE. 

" Things have come to a pretty pass 

The whole wide country over, 
When every married woman has 

To have a friend or lover; 
It ain't the way that I was raised, 

An* I hain't no desire 
To have some feller pokin' round 

Instead of my Josiar. 

" I never kin forget the day 

That we went out a walkin', 
An' sot down on the river bank 

An' kep an hour a-talkin ; 
He twisted up my apron string 

An' folded it together, 
An' said he thought for harvest time 

'Twas cur'us kind o' weather, 

" The sun went down as we sot there- 

Josiar seemed uneasy, 
An' mother she began to call : 

' Loweezy ! oh, Loweezy 1' 









10 SCANDALOUS. 

An' then Josiar spoke right up, 
As I was just a-startin', 

An' said, ' Loweezy, what 's the use 
Of us two ever partin' V 

" It kind o' took me by surprise, 

An' yet I knew 'twas comin' — 
I 'd heard it all the Summer long, 

In every wild bee's hummin* ; 
I 'd studied out the way I 'd act, 

But law ! I couldn't do it ; 
I meant to hide my love from him, 

But seems as if he knew it, 
An' lookin' down into my eyes 

He must a seen the fire, 
An' ever since that hour I 've loved 

An' worshipped my Josiar. 

'* I can't tell what the women mean 

Who let men fool around 'em, 
Believin' all the nonsense that 

They only say to sound 'em ; 
I know, for one, I 've never seen 

The man that I 'd admire, 
To have a-hangin' after me, 

Instead of my Josiar." 



SCANDALOUS. 

As 'long the street I blundered, 
Much I marveled, much I wondered, 
Seeing sights and things that mortal 

Never saw or dreamed before ; 
On the pavement came a rapping, 
As of footfalls gently tapping, 
And I heard a muslin — flapping, 



SCANDALOUS. 17 

Which my eye would fain explore ; 
" 'Tis some female," then I muttered — 
I had seen the thing before — 
Only this and nothing more. 

Came this female sweeping by me — 
Fearing she should chance to spy me, 
Suddenly I stepped into a 

Friendly, waiting, open door ; 
Thence I saw the lovely maiden — 
Being from some distant Aiden — 
All perfumed and dry-goods laden, 

Pass me and go on before — 
Naught had I to do but follow, 

And note down the dress she wore — 

'Twas a mystery to explore 

And I found — by close inspection — 
That her haughty, upper section, 
Something chance had called a bonnet, 

On its pericranium wore ; 
And her breast was heaving slowly, 
'Neath a garment fashioned lowly, 
And I knew the movement wholly, 

I had never seen before, 
For I knew 'twas " patent heavers " 

That this radiant maiden wore — 

Only these and nothing more. 

And her cheeks were full and rosy — 
I could tell you, inter nos, a 
Secret that a druggist told me 

Of the color that she wore — 
Yet her cheeks were very pleasing, 
But her looks at me were freezing, 
And she showed a sign of sneezing, 

As she swept along before ; 
And she sneezed a pair of " plumpers" 



18 SCANDALOUS. 

Out at least a yard before — 
Only this and nothing more. 

Then I noticed an uncertain 
Lifting of the muslin curtain 
That her feet had deftly hidden 

From my errant eyes before 
With each lift came a desire 
That 'twould lift a little higher, 
And at last it did aspire 

Higher than I 'd seen before, 
And I knew it was a " tilter " 

That this saintly maiden wore ; 

Just a "tilter" — nothing more. 

And the tilting and the rocking 
Up and down the splendid stocking 
Gartered by a bluish ribbon, 

That I chanced to see she wore, 
Showed me — 'twas a sight for weeping, 
That a pair of calves were creeping 
Out of place, as she was sweeping 

Like a stately queen before ; 
Calves that she had lately purchased 

From a fancy dry-goods store, 

Patent calves — and not much more. 

And the fluttering and the flapping 
Of the maiden's gaudy trapping 
Showed me sights that never mortal 

Eye had dared to see before ; 
Sights revealed by every lifting 
Of the folds of muslin drifting 
Round her, which the winds were shifting 

Eyeward, higher, more and more, 
Sights that to mortal vision 

Never were revealed before, 

Nameless here forevermore. 






WOMAN. 19 

And while thus her rigging fluttered, 
Much I wondered, and I muttered : 
" And you call this thing a woman 

That is trouncing on before ; 
She, the brazen doll of fashion, 
Wrapped in one tremendous passion, 
Sunken from her noble station 

To the thing that goes before : 
Oh, that ever mortal vision 

Should such mystery explore !" 

This I muttered — nothing more. 

And the thought came o'er me gushing, 
" Where has gone the art of blushing 
That we loved in wife or maiden 

In the saintly days of yore ?" 
Call me, if you will, uncivil, 
While I name her " thing of evil," 
And I wish the very deuce 

Had the toggery she wore : 
And again she were arrayed in 

Dresses like her mother wore, 

Vanished now forevermore. 



WOMAN. 

POMPEY SQUASH. 

Belubbed Sheep an' Lams :— De subjic witch looms 
uppermos' in my fervid maginashun dis mornin' (or, ehenin\ 
am one dat hab puzzle de branes ob de grates 'preechers dat 
eber libed from de days ob Mefusaler to de days ob John 
Brown who hab cum to a dead halt-er in his march, finerly 
an' fureber. Dis subjic too am de moss interest! n' dat de 
harts an' interlecs ob filisofers eber dwelt upon, one dat you 
all see, hear an' feal, but don't un stand. Wen I say you 
don't un'stand, I 'tikerly 'dress myself to de hem ale potion ob 
dis semblygashun, as dar don't happen to be any ob de she- 



20 WOMAN. 

male seek present. I spect it am too cole for dere delikit lims 
to be galiwantin' up hea to cliercli wen de frizometer am hot 
clar up abub sbero. Darfo I shall extonish you when I 
nounce to you dat de subjic ob my discourse am 

WOMAX. 

Yas, my brudrin, woman, lublie woman, de paragon ob an- 
imels, de bewtyf ullest ting in nater, de lubliest ob all warkin 
or creepin' tings, de belubed ob all de maskeline gander. 

Histry habs bery little to say 'pon de orijin ob woman. In 
my resaches I fine de fuss menshun made ob her am in de 
ruins of one ob de Patryarks in de time ob Jerry Boom. An' 
wot duz he say ? Wy dat woman warn't born like oder 
fooks — fuss, a little chubby pickaniny, den a leetle gal, den a 
full groan lady ! No, brudrin, she cumd into de wuld a lady 
ebery inch ob her, an' about as tail an' plump as Misse Jinny 
Hocake. An' she appear'd bewfully drest in de kostume 
witch nater had libally perwided for her, widout hoop skurt, 
cossets, bussles, or any ob dem superfishal tings dat am ony 
to be seen by mortle man in de show-winder ob a millintery 
shop. 

De fuss man dat eber sot eyes on de fuss woman, wur 
Farmer Adum. He had been hard at work all one day hoin' 
corn and sweet pertaters; an' consekently wur bury tired wen 
he turned in dat nite, an' he slep so bery sounly, dat he 
didn't woke up till day arter to-morrer. Jes imajine his 
sprise an' delite wen he fuss opened his eyes to behole stand- 
in' afo' him, in all her lubly bewty an' neckid majesty de 
fuss woman dat eber was created ! 

"Golly ! wot aswete critter!" he exclaimed. " Whar did 
you cum from V 

" Dat's mor'n I kin tell you," says she. 

" Wot's yer name?" sed he. 

"Dunno — guess I neber had none." 

' • Whar wur you born f 

" Guess I war'ntborn at all — guess I growd." 

" Who wus your mudder ?" he axed. 

"De earf uius' hab ben my mudder ef I growd," she re- 
plied. 



WHO'S WHO. 



21 



Adam touglit she radder hab him dar. But jess den an 
old sarpint cum along — I link it runs' Lab ben a copperbed, 
for be knowd pooty much ebery ting — an' he tole Adum dat 
gal was got up spressly for liim wile he'd ben snoozin' under de 
apple-tree. He f urdermo' tole him dat her name was Misses 
Ebe, an 7 dat she wur made out ob a spare-rib — not a spare- 
lib ob pork — ampytated from de leff wing ob Farmer Adum. 

When Adum heard dat, he tought he shud shualy kick de 
buckit, but on zamination he foun' dat de wound had all 
heeled up an' he was entirely conwalesent. 

Den dar was a gran' weddin' in de gardin' ob Edum, an* all 
de beests an' burds an' bees an' oder ereepin' tings wur in- 
wited. De minister tole dem wot dey mite do and wot dey 
mite not do, wot dey mite eat an' drink, an' wot dey mite not 
eat an* drink. All went on well enuff till dey disobeyed dar 
instrucshuns, wen dar wus a mass kickt up, witch I will leff 
you know about and consider bel mo heahter. 

De solum duty obparsein roun* de hat will now be puffomed 
by dekon Gumbo Guzzle, an' wile he am propellin' roun', de 
Hoehandle Sciety will sing de oberturn ob " Jinny git your 
hoecake done," 



WHO'S WHO. 

Who, when I feel a little ill, 
Sends me a daily draught and pill, 
Followed by a tremendous bill ? 

My doctor. 

Who, when a lawsuit I have won, 
For a large sum begins to dun ; 
To which the .extra costs have run? 

My lawyer. 



Who, for my trousers which, with straps, 
Have cost him half-a-sovereign p'rhaps, 
Down in the bill two guineas claps ? 

My tailor, 






22 who's who. 

Who, when I wish of beef a stone, 
Composed of wholesome meat alone, 
Sends me, at least, three pounds of bone ? 

My batcher. 

Who, when I send a joint to bake, 
Away from it contrives to take 
Enough a hearty meal to make? 

My baker. 

Who lends my Times to read in town, 
And, when I at the lateness frown, 
Tells me the engine's broken down ? 

My newsman. 

Who coolly pawns my other shirt, 
And tells me with assurance pert 
She's only dropp'd it in the dirt ? 

My laundress. 

Who peeps in every private note. 

And wears my best neckcloth round his throat, 

And at the soiree sports my coat ? 

My footman. 

Who brings my shaving water late, 
And with a basket full of plate 
One morning doth evaporate ? 

My valet. 

Who flirts with soldiers, dress'd so fine, 
And leaves that sweetest pet of mine 
To tumble in the Serpentine ? 

My nursemaid. 

Who comes to make a formal call, 

Merely to criticise us all, 

When sever'd by the party wall ? 

My neighbor. 



THE NIAM NIAMS. 23 

Who's who, or where shall he be sought, 
Who may not now and then be caught 
At something wrong in act or thought ? 

Why no one. 



THE NIAM NIAMS. 

ANONYMOUS. 

My Dear Sheeps : On dis occasion I ax your ears, your 
eyes an' your moufs, while I export you to a much hotter 
climate dan dis, aldo de fernomican can't be much below 
ninety-nine hundud iu de shaid. Now pay 'tention de hole, 
hemales as well as shemales, wile I take you to de land ob 
your auntsisters an' mine, do caulin' my granfader, dat came 
from Africa, my auntsister, I consider a lapstone lingo (as we 
say in High Dutch) made by Massa Daniel Webster in his 
dicshunary. But let's come to de pint. Africa am a won- 
derful country, my 'stonished 'ciples. Nature's de only tailor 
dar an' clofes all de natif s in a genteel soot ob black as soon 
as dey am born, widout cabagin' any ob de clof ; do de people 
seldom eber dresses enny ting but deir vittels. An' more dan 
all, my frens, dat am de country whar has jis been found de 
Niam Niams, or men wid tails. An' dis will form de subjic 
ob my scorce. You may doubt it. But de discubbery am no 
fiction ; no, my frens an' hearers, dem tails am stern realities, 
as dey say in de noosepapers. I shall begin by diwidin dese 
tails into tree heads. 

lly. How de tails git dar. 
' 21y. What dem tails for ? 

31y. Why hab de Niam Niams got tails, an' nobody 
else? 

lly. How does dem tails git dar? Dis, you percebe, am 
a purely siantific kwestshun, an' I'll argy accordin'. De tails 
am sed to be about two or tree inches long — dis hab made 
some foolosophers tink dey are artificial, an' bin drivin. But 
whateber's driv in can be pulled out, wich am not de kase wid 
de Niam Niams' tails, darfor dey ain't artificial, an' bin driv 
in. Ergo, nogo, I forget wich Posle Irishtotle sez, it's my 






24 THE NIAM NIAMS. 

opinion dey growed dar, furnished by tail-or nature before 
'luded to. Quoddy Rat Demonstrandum, w'ich meens jist 
like a rat's tail. 

21y. Wat dat tail for ? Dat am a bard kwestshun. It's 
too short to brush off de flies, and it can't be used for a swing 
like a munkee's. It am not ornamental, do it's more interest- 
ing dan a tale to be continued in tree volumes. It can't be 
used as a trowel like de beaver's tail, nor like a shanghai 
kote-tail hide spindle-shanks. In short, like de subjie of my 
eggs-plainations, I kin kum to no oder konklushun dan dis :, 
dese here Niain Niams can't smile wen dey feel jolly, an' dey 
hab dese to wag wen dey feel glad. Dat's de only udder use 
fur sich a tail as I nose on. 

31y. Why de Niam Niams got tails an' nobody else ? 
Among dat peepil ebbery wun hab 'em — de female seek as well 
asliemale. Do dat's not so surprising for in our own country 
de greatest tale-bearers generally belong to de female porshun 
ob de kommunity. De reason wy dese here Niam Niams 
hab tails an' nobody else, 'pears to me to be dis : dey's got no 
chairs to sit upon, an' konsekwently don't ware 'em off like 
de rest ob creation, an' dis argyment, taken in konnection wid 
de fac' dat dey must hab tails to wag w'en dey're glad, will 
splain de whole mystery. 

An' now, my heerers, de subjie am eggshausted. I gub to 
you a plane, moral, unwarnished tale unfolded. It am only wid 
de intensest study dat sich siantifick facks can be 'lucidated, 
an' in acknowledgment ob my labors I spect ebbery day a let- 
ter from Asrassass inwiting me to his house to zamine into de 

so 

way dat de milk gets into de kokynut. 

In de mean time, yure shepperd must lib, an' Dekon Smith 
will please tote round de sasser, takin' kere ob de kontents. 
Dekwire will sing de Boston Jubilee Anbil Koreas, with jor- 
bone 'cumpanyment. 



schnitzerl's velocipede. 25 

SCHNTTZERL'S VELOCIPEDE. 

HANS BREITMANN. 

Hans ScnNiTZERL made a velocipede, 

Vone of dot newest kind ; 
It didn't liafe no vlieel pefore, 

Und der vasn't none pehind. 



Aber dere vas vone in de middle, dhough, 

Dat's sliust as sure as eggs ; . 
Und he shtraddled across dot axle, 

Mit de vlieel between bis leers. 



Und when lie vants to slitart it off, 

He paddled mit his feet, 
Und soon he made it gone so fast 

Dat efery tings he beat. 

He took it out on Broadway vonce, 

Und shkeeted like de vind. 
Phew ! how he passed dot fancy schaps ! 

He leafed dem all pehind. 

Dem fellers on dose shtylish nags 

Pulled up to see him pass ; 
Und der Deutschers, all ockstonished, cried, 

" Potz tauzand ! Vas ist das ? " 

But faster shtill Herr Schnitzerl flew,— 

On, mit a ghastly schmile : 
He didn't touch de ground, by Jinks, 

Not vonce in half a mile. 

So vas it mit Herr Schnitzerl 

Und his velocipede : 
His feet both shlipped right inside out 

Vhen at its extra shpeed. 






26 



He failed upon dot vheel, of course ; 

Dot vheel like blitzen flew ; 
Und Sclinitzerl, he vasschnicht in vacht, 

Dot schliced him grode in two. 



A BACHELOR'S WOES. 

What a pitiful thing an old bachelor is, 

With his cheerless house and rueful phiz, 

On a bitter cold night when the fierce winds blow ; 

When the earth is covered a foot with snow. 

When the fire is out, and, in shivering dread, 

He slips 'neath the sheets of his lonely bed. 

How he draws up his toes, encased in yarn hose, 

And buries his nose beneath his chilly bed clothes — 

That his nose and his toes, still encased in yarn hose — 

May not chance to get froze : then he puffs and he blows, 

And he swears he knows no mortal on earth ever suffered 

such woes ; 
And with ah's and with oh's, and with limbs so disposed 
That neither his toes nor his nose may be froze, 
To his slumber he goes. In the morn when the cock crows, 
And the sun has just rose, from beneath the bed clothes 
Pops the bachelor's nose ; and you may suppose 
When he hears the wind blows, and sees the window all 

froze, 
Why back 'neath the clothes pops the poor fellow's nose, 
For full well he knows, if from the bed he rose 
To put on his clothes, that he'd surely be froze, 
And these are only a few of his woes. 



JERKS PROGNOSTICATES. 27 

JERKS PROGNOSTICATES. 

Don't like almanacs. 

Never did — and don't believe there's a particle of truth in 
any of them. 

We have depended upon them for our weather, and the re- 
sult was we never got it ; or it comes in huge lumps just at 
a time when we did not expect it. 

The fellows who perform their prognostics and have them 
printed in the almanacs, with yellow covers, like novels, 
don't. tell the truth any more than novel writers. 

For this we have discarded all almanacs, and all things like 
them. 

We shall have our prognostics hereafter — and shall stick 
to them. 

• We herewith immediately commence to carry out our most 
laudable determination, and prognosticate a little for May. 

May will begin on the first day of the month. 

It is not unlikely a little of the present kind of April wea- 
ther will slip into May. If it should it would not be consist- 
ent weather, but slightly mixed. 

The weather in May will last about thirty-one days and 
nights, which is the usual time at all seasons, 'with this 
month. On no account will this rule be deviated from this 
spring. 

The weather will be pleasant every day in May — except 
some. On these days you may look for storms, or any thing 
else, providing you have lost it, and then it is better to ad- 
vertise it in the newspapers. 

If the clouds should come up during the morning, previ- 
ous to ten o'clock, it will indicate that the sun will not be 
visible during the night following. 

If the frogs are caught singing in the early evening, it in- 
dicates that the ice has left the ponds for the season. 

If Saturday should fall upon Monday, Monday would get 
badly hurt. 

If Thursday should occur on the day next succeding Sun- 
day, things would become mixed, and you may look for good 
or bad weather, as you feel disposed. 

This will last for quite a considerable space of periods. 






28 JACOB whittle's speech. 

KEEP TO THE RIGHT. 

THE great Shakespeare owns there are sermons in stones ; 

He likewise agrees that there are tongues in the treos, 

And that there are books in the clear running brooks ; 

But this town can boast of good advice from a post — 

A lamp-post I mean, for it's there to be seen 

Hanging up day and night, always in sight, 

This request and advice of " keep to the right ! " 

So we cannot do better than follow to the letter 

This lamp-post's advice, for it's worth any price. 

While we jog through this life with its care and its strife, 

We get jostled along by the world's busy throng. 

Right put down by wrong, weak trampled on by strong ; 

But while we all fight with grim poverty's spite, 

Take advice from that lamp-post and "keep to the right." 

If you have a good wife love her as your own life. 

Never grumble or fret, or run into debt. 

Never stop out at night, and never get tight, 

And you'll never do wrong if you " keep to the right." 



JACOB WHITTLE'S SPEECH. 

OLIVER OPTIC. 

Mr. Moderator : I want to say a word about this 'ere 
new school-us. Most everybody has had their say, and now 
I'd like to have mine. I can't set, as I have sot for the past 
tew hours, and see the people's money flung away on a new 
s'cVjoI-'us without saying a word ag'in it. 

If I understand the matter right, it is proposed to spend 
tew thousand dollars. And what fur, Mr. Moderator? To 
set up a high school-'us, and teach the boys and girls of 
Squawkboro' a lot of highfalutin stuff that will only make 
them imperdent and sassy. 

When I went to school and got my 1'arnin', all I studied 
was the three r's — readin', 'ritin' and 'ritltmctic ; and that is 
plenty enough for anybody to l'arn, and two much for a gal. 



29 

It is easy enough for men to get up in a town meetin' and 
vote away tew tliousand at a lick ; but how long would it take 
them to 'arn that money themselves? In my opinion, Mr. 
Moderator, there is too much money locked up in the public 
buildings already. Look at the meetin' -'uses in Squawk- 
boro' ! Four, and any one on 'em is big enough to hold all the 
people that goes to the hull on 'em. How can a town ever 
get ahead that* has so much capital locked up in meetin'- 
'uses ? And every one on 'em callin' the other names 1 

Suppose this vote passes — whar are ye a-goin' to put your 
new school-'us ? There'll be a puzzler for ye ! I s'pose 
Squire Snukes will try his pootiest to have it built on his 
five-acre lot ; and somehow the people of this town think 
they must dew jist what the squire tells 'em, because he was 
sent to Gineral Court one term. But I can tell you, Mr. 
Moderator, that if the school-'us is put on that lot, it will be 
playin' a mean thing on the children that live up over by 
Silas Doozenberry's. They can't come to school only when 
the sun shines. And I don't want the thing built anywhere 
near my place. I know what it is to live near the school-'us. 
I don't want my apples and peaches hooked, or my fences 
hacked up by boys, to say nothin' about the winders broken 
by base balls and sich. 

Mr. Moderator, we've got along all these years without this 
school-'us ; why can't we get along fifty years more ? Why 
agitate this peaceful town of Squawkboro', from one eend to 
t'other about edicatin' a parcel of boys and gals that know a 
sight more than their payrents do already? 

Tew thousand dollars! My gracious, Mr. Moderator ! Jest 
think of tew thousand dollars all to wonst ! Jest think of 
, the town debt now, and then picter to yourselves what it will 
be with tew thousand more piled onto it. Look forrard a 
hundred and fifty years, and see our children's children 
a-groanin* under the taxes this 'ere school-'us will bring upon 
'em. Why, sir, I got our minister to figger up what tew 
thousand dollars would be if divided ekally among the in- 
habitants of Squawkboro' and it come to three and ninepence 
apiece ! Yes, Mr. Moderator, three and ninepence apiece ! 

Why, sir, it is only a year since the town went to the ex- 






30 



pense of two hundred and fifty dollars to build a hearse-house, 
and not a livin' person in Squawkboro,' needed it. But there 
it is built, and stands there unopened week after week, 
hardly any use for it. As I said before, I can't set still and 
see the hard-'arned money of the people flung away on 
hearse-houses and school-houses without gittin' up and utter- 
in' my voice ag'in it. 

Mr. Moderator, I shall vote ag'in this appropriation, and I 
hope every liberal-minded, whole-souled man will do the 
same. 



THE FAIRY. 

Oh reveal to me thou fairy stranger, 

Why this circular path you seek ; 
Every step is fraught with danger, 

And to one so fair and meek. 
Where are those that should protect thee 

In this faltering hour of doubt ? 
Love could never thus neglect thee, 

Does your mother know you're out ? 



WOMAN'S RIGHTS. 

KITTY CHEERFUL. 

What can mean this great commotion 
About women's rights and wrongs, 

While of rights a boundless ocean 
Still to her by right belongs? 

Hers the first to greet the morning, 
And the breakfast to prepare ; 

Hers the first to set in order, 
With a watchful, prudent care. 



woman's rights. 31 

Dress the children, pour the coffee, 

Hush the baby's noisy cries ; 
Look a smile whose very blandness ' 

Every cloud of care defies. 

Meekly hers it is to listen 

To each bit of morning news, 
Talk and prattle of the weather, 

Drive away all business blues. 

Then to please her darling husband, 

Down to sit and sing " good-by ;" 
Play a waltz or variation, 

Or a Scottish melody. 

She's a right to pin his collar, 

Square the knot in his cravat ; 
See him safely through the passage, 

Brush his raglan and his hat. 

Teach the child to throw sweet kisses 

To his '* dear, kind, good papa ;" 
Watch him till he's out of hearing, 

Sigh because he's left mamma. 

Here to hasten to the kitchen, 

Fix the little ones for school ; 
Wash the dishes, make the pudding, 

Set the butter where 'twill cool. 

This one right above all others — 

Let her work be what it will, 
Making soaps, preserves or candles — 

To keep her person tidy still. 

Keep her hair in glossy ringlets, 

Or arranged with prudent care, 
With a habit so becoming, 

A princess might be proud to wear. 






32 THE BEATIFUL BALLAD OE WASKA WEE. 

Then to keep her petty troubles 

'Neath this elegant outside — 
Busy sighs, and tears, it may be — 

Sweetly smile what'er betide. 

Talk of suffrage and of voting, 

She resents it in a huff ; 
Woman's rights ! they're but too plenty 

Mercy knows she's rights enough. 

Till man claims the right of training 

Children, infancy and youth ; 
Till he educates all nations, 

Raise the boys and girls, forsooth ; 

Till he mold earth's sons and daughters, 

Mind and matter at his will, 
Holding yet the rod of empire, 

She abjures the suffrage still. 



THE BEAUTIFUL BALLAD OP WASKA WEE. 

Her voice was sweet as a ban-do-lin, 
Her mouth was small as the head of a pin ; 
Her eyes ran up, and her chin ran down — 
Oh, she was the belle of Yeddo town. 

Now, lovely Waska Singty Wee, 
So good to hear, so sweet to see, 
The fairest maiden in all Japan, 
Fell dead in love with a Turkish man. 

This Turkish man a turban had, 
This Turkish man was sly and bad ; 
He whispered unto Miss Waska Wee : 
" Oh, fly with me to my own Turkee !" 



THE BEAUTIFUL BALLAD OF WASKA WEE. 33 

" Oh, fly with me to my own Turkee 1 
And robes of gold I'll give to thee — 
A girdle of pearl and love for life, 
If thou wilt be my eighteenth wife !" 

Now simple Waska Singty Wee, 

So good to hear, so fair to see, 

Resolved behind her bashful fan 

To be eighteenth wife to the Turkish man. 

But though her heart was full of glee 
She hung her head and said to he : 
" If thou should die, my Turkish beau, 
Where would poor Waska Singty go ?" 

Then this horrid, sly, old Turkish man 

Declared he'd die on the English plan. 

" And so," said he, " my bright winged bird, 

Thou'lt have for thy fortune the widow's third." 

Then flew the maid to the Mica-do, 

And told the plan of her Turkish beau, 

" And now," said she, " the whole thou'st heard, 

How much will it be, this widow's third ?" 

Now the Mi-ca,-do was wondrous wise, 
He opened his mouth and shut his eyes : 
"The widow's third, oh, daughter I will be 
Whatever the law will allow to thee. " 

Then flew the maid to the court of Lords, 
Where every man wore a brace of swords, 
And bade them name what sum would be hers 
When the Turk should go to his forefathers. 

They sat in council from dawn till night, 
And sat again till morning light, 
Figured and counted and weighed, to see 
What an eighteenth widow's third would be. 



34 MARCH OF INTELLECT. 

And the end of it all, as you well might know, 
Was nought but grief to the Turkish beau ; 
For lovely Waska Singty Wee 
Said, " <io back alone to your old Turkee l" 



MARCH OP INTELLECT. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, — Allow me to offer you my opinion 
of the march of intellect ; march they call it, but I call it a 
gallop, for there's so much sense and learning about that 
there's not a dunce now but what's a great scholar ; and how 
can they help it, forgo where you will you see improvement; 
for you may pop into a coffee-house and over a cup of coffee 
you may swallow all the news of the week a week before it 
happens, by reading the next Sunday's paper the Saturday 
before it's printed. There is not much in the coffee, but you 
may have a decent cup for three cents by paying five cents 
for it ; and if it is not sweet enough you may sugar it with 
your own milk if there happens to be any cream on the table. 
You can get the fat of information, for the newspapers are 
so smothered with grease that every word you read is entire- 
ly obliterated, but that is to be accounted for because all the 
butter they eat off the toast they plaster on the paper. Then 
there's your inventions ; they have got indiarubber pavement 
because it wears twice as long as any other stone, by means 
of its flexibility it never gives, therefore it never takes ; you 
cannot make the least impression on it, for it rubs out every 
mark that's not left on it. Then there's the great tunnel. I 
remember the time when it was thought a good thing to go 
over the water by the means of a bridge or a boat, but now 
by the means of the great tunnel we go over the water by 
going under it. Then they've invented letters which a blind 
man can see to read by the feel of them. Then look at the 
printing ; here are the newspapers printing themselves by 
the aid of a steam engine. There was a time when the only 
printing was handwriting, though certainly that was some 
time ago, long before letters were invented. And here they'll 



JOSH BILLINGS LECTURING RAID, ETC 35 

build you a stone house out of bricks and mortar, and the 
only bit of stone about it are the wooden doorposts. Then 
look at the cultivation of the land, in Adam's time the only 
spade they had was a pickaxe ; but now we have a patent 
plow that rips up the ground without even touching it. 
Then look at the improvement of the laws ; in before times 
we had no law, and then we had nothing but justice ; then 
any man could take his own even if it belonged to another 
party, but since we've had law we've done without justice, 
so that you can't keep your own because it belongs to some- 
body else. It is a curious thing when we look forward to 
what has been, and look back to what is to come. They tell 
us we are hundreds of years behind other countries, but that 
will not be long the case, for now that we've got steam on 
our side we are overtaking them so fast that we are a long 
way ahead of them. 



JOSH BILLINGS' LECTURING 
RAID THROUGH THE STATE OP MAINE. 

I have just returned from the Stait of Maine, 

I went through the Stait endways. 

That iz tew say, from top to bottom. 

I lektured as I went. 

I like the inhabitants. 

Everybody works in the Stait ov Maine. 

Gentlemen of leizzure there are called loafers, 

Maine is bounded just now as followers : On the north by 
the land of the deserters, on the east by Asia, on the south 
by the grate Atlantic saltwater privilege, on the west by the 
Rocky Mountains. 

The best produckshins of the Stait iz men and wimmen. 
The wimmen have more indigenous hair on their heads than 
you kan find in the whole ov the Middle Staits. 

Everybody goes tew bed in the Stait ov Main at 9 o'clock 
P. M. 

I lektured at Gardiner. At 9 o'clock the aujence arose all 



36 JOSH billings' lecturing raid, etc. 

tew onst, and, bidding me a fond fairwell, said it was bed- 
time. I took the hint and stopt lekturing. 

Bangor has something less than one hundred thousand in- 
habitants (about 75 thousand less, I belief.) 

Bangor ain't the capital ov the Stait at present. It haz the 
best tavern stand in the Stait. It is called the "Bangor 
House/' and iz kept bi Shaw. He and I are cuzzins by mar- 
riage (we both married f emails.) 

Shaw is a McClelland man ; he has got a hoss with that 
name of the male purswashun, who iz a great deal faster 
than the General that he wuz named after wuz. 

I lektured in Bangor. 

The thermometer waz 19 degreez less than zero, and the 
spectators couldn't absorb the lektur. The morning paper 
said, " Sum liked the lektur and some didn't." This put me 
in mind of the parable in the Bible, about the 10 virgins ; 
they was effected in the same way — 5 waz wize and 5 was 
otherwize. 

The churches in Bangor, in their outside appearance, are a 
kompliment tew the cauze, and I havn't any doubt the stock- 
holders are all ov them 4th proof. 

I waz taken around the town bi Mr. Shaw (my cuzzin) in 
a delikate rig, pulled bi ten thousand dollars worth ov natu- 
ral trotting property. 

Bangor and its pleasant people are morticed into mi buz- 
zum — they are tenants there for life. If I ever go there 
again I shan't fail tew see them. 

I also lecktured in Lewiston, to a gushing house. Some of 
the aujence wus affected with tears. The editor of the next 
day's paper gave me a very nattering notiss — a collum and a 
half, containing my whole lektur. 

Ed. Sands (unkte to the grate sassaparilla root Sands) was 
mi right bower, while I waz in the Stait ov Maine. 

He is the general agent for the whole Stait. I can recom- 
mend him to enny young lady who wants to get a husband 
who will be useful to her ; or he would make a tiptop secund 
husband for a widder who hadn't had a fair shake the fust 
time. He belongs to the Temperance Society. 

I also lektured in Dexter, an inland town, about 15 hun- 









REFORM IN WINDOWS. 37 

dred mile in a westerly direksliun from the city ov London. 

I gave a free lektur, and tew my surprize I had a full 
house. The hat was shoved round at the cloze of the servis- 
ses, and about 300 hundred dollars (more or less) waz en- 
trapped. 

This place was named after the celebrated trottin hoss, 
Dexter. Dexter can trot (in private) in 2:06. I will bet 60 
dollars ov it (and I ain't worth a sent to bet owing to a natu- 
ral weakness.) 

I likewised lectured at Augustus, the capital of the Stait, 
and had a full house ov benches. This waz owing tew a 
misunderstandingness about the weather. 

The people offered tew turn out if I would find the urn- 
brellers, but we split on the umbrellers. 

I could not dew miself justiss at Augustus. There wa'n't 
but one lady present in the hall, and me and the aujence waz 
awl the time looking at her. 

What an awful state of things it would be if the wimmeri 
and the ladys should awl be taken out ov this world, tew 
their hums up in the skize ! Wooden dolls would advance, 5 
foot in a week. 



REFORM IN WINDOWS. 

Gentle Reader, did you ever go to church? If you have, and 
the church was one of those with stained glass windows, you 
have noticed that the sunlight as it streams through the win- 
dows and becomes doctored with the paint, invariably reaches 
out for a bald-headed man, and falls upon his polished ex- 
terior. This, we believe from what we have noticed, is the 
invariable rule. The painted sunshine never falls anywhere 
else. It seeks out the bald-headed and shoots him on the 
spot ; and the map of the American flag which appears on 
the bald place cannot be hauled down with impunity. All 
through the sermon this circus lemonade sunlight will nicker 
and glint and play tag all over that bald head, as it nods ap- 
provingly to some point that the preacher has made in his 
sermon, or nods with the weight of ripening years or the 






38 REFORM IN WINDOWS. 

ponderous burdens of the man's intellect. Sometimes a blue 
streak, that has come through the tail of St. Paul's ulster, 
will fall upon the bald man's nose, and it will look like a 
bologna sausage that ought to have been used long before the 
war broke out. A streak of yellow from the Virgin Mary's 
bodice will.then swat the man across the mouth, so to speak, 
and he will look like a laughing hyena. But all the while, 
the blue, red, yellow and purple are getting in their work on 
that bald pate, and it looks like a circus poster or target for 
an archery club. Do we feel solemn under such circumstaces 
and experience a sense of reverence and awe? Well, if we 
are bald-headed, and know that we are being illuminated in 
the same manner, we do feel pretty solemn and no mistake. 
Burt; if we had a boy fourteen years old, who would sit in a 
back seat and see all those variegated eggplants, and f>el' 
solemn and pay attention to what the minister was saying, we 
would take him home and whip him within an inch of his 
life. 

We do not wish to be understood as wishing to clothe re- 
ligion in the gloom and superstition of the dark ages, but it 
does seem as if the stained glass windows in our churches 
added unusual and uncalled for terrors to the trembling sin- 
ner in a back pew. Why should we cause our houses*of 
worship to look like the front windows of a drug store at 
night ? And what is the imperative need — we do not ask this 
in a complaining spirit, but simply for information — what is 
the imperative need of giving a magic-lantern exhibition in 
the middle of the day? Is it not out of place? Is it in har- 
mony with the advanced spirit of the age in which we live? 
Is it not a reflection upon bald-headed men, and does it not 
have a tendeucy to drive them to the haunts of vice instead 
of leading them gently through green fields and by the side 
of still waters, up to a nobler existence and the contribution- 
box ? If there was any utility about these stained glass win- 
dows we could make allowances. If they contained adver- 
tisements, something that was of benefit to somebody, so a 
person could sit in his pew and read on a bald head, "Buy 
your postage stamps of Henry Payne and save forty per cent." 
—if, in short, there was one redeeming feature in the whole 



THE BALLAD OP A BUTCHER. 39 

rainbow, we would not say a word. But we have given the 
matter serious thought, and there does not appear to be any 
possible defense of this diluted sunshine. Give us straight 
sunshine ; give us the clear quill, the pure article with out 
any bitters in it. If we have to have it mixed, we can mix it 
afterwards. 



LOVE AND FIREARMS. 

She was a virgin fair to view, 
Her name, I think, was black-eyed Sue ; 
Her eyes they were of the brightest hue, 
And her breath as sweet as the morning dew 
And on the wings of love I flew 
To tell her I'd for ever be true, 
For Cupid's flame none can subdue. 
At last a sheepish eye she threw 
• And said, oh, dear, I must have you ; 
To church we went with such a crew, 
The parson came, gave us the cue, 
And tied us together as fast as glue. 
But weeks had scarcely passed a few, 
When this false jade she proved untrue ; 
What I felt none ever knew, 
At last in such a rage I grew, 
Two revolvers from my pockets I drew; 
And the first chance I swear to you, — 
I'll pawn them for a dollar or two. 



THE BALLAD OP A BUTCHER. 

It was a gruesome butcher, 

With countenance saturnine ; 
He stood at the door of his little shop, 

It was the hour of nine. 

The children going by the school 
Looked in at the open door ; 






40 HARD LIVES. 

They loved to see the sausage machine 
And hear its awful roar. 

The butcher he looked out and in, 

Then horribly he swore ; 
Next yawned, then, smiling, he licked his chops ; 
Quoth he : " Life's an awful bore !" 

" Now here's all these dear little children, 
Some on 'em might live to be sixty ; 

Why shouldn't I save them the trouble to wunst, 
An' chop 'em up slipperty licksty ?" 

So he winked to the children and beckoned 'em 
" Oh, don't ye's want some candy ? 

But ye see ye'll have to come into the shop, 
For out here it isn't handy V* 

He 'ticed them into the little shop, 
The machine went round and round, 

And when these poor babes came out again 
They fetched ten cents a pound. 



HARD LIVES. 

A. BRUTE. 

How happy is the single life 

Of all the priests and monks ! 
Not one of them has got a wife 

To bother him with trunks 
And bandboxes, a load too great 

For man or horse to bear, 
Which railways charge for over- weight, 

And cabs ask double fare. 

Fell care, as when your bride you post, 
Distracts your anxious mind, 

Lest this portmanteau should be lost. 
Or that be left behind : 



DER BABY. 41 

Her baggage as you travel down 

Life's hill weighs more and more, 
And still, as balder grows your crown, 

Becomes a greater bore. 

Outstretched by fashion vile and vain, 

Hoops, petticoats and vests, 
Now Yankee females to contain 

Require no end of chests ; 
To which bags, baskets, bundles add, 

Too numerous to name, 
Enough to drive a poor man mad, 

A Job with rage inflame. 

The cab keeps swaying o'er your head 

With baggage piled above, 
Of overturn you ride in dread, 

With her whom you should love ; 
Then you, the station when you gain, 

Must see the lumber stowed, 
And fears about it in the train 

Your heart and soul corrode. 

Thus does your wife each journey spoil 

Of yours which she partakes, 
Thus keeps you on the fret and broil, 

Your peace and comfort breaks. 
With all these boxes, all her things 

(How many) to inclose, 
The fair incumbrance on you brings 

A wagon-load of woes. 



DER BABY. 

So help me gracious ,efery day 
I laugh me wild to see der vay 
My schmall young baby dries to play- 
Dot funny leetle baby. 



42 the clown's description, etc. 

Vhen I look on dhem leetle toes, 
Und saw dot funny leetle nose, 
Und heard der vay dot rooster crows, 
I sclimile like I was grazy. 

Und vhen I heard der real nice vay 
Dhem beoples to my wife dhey say, 
" More like his fater every day," 
I vas so proud like "blazes. 

Sometimes dhere comes a leetle schquall, 
Dot's vhen der vindy vind will crawl 
Righd in its leetle schtomach schmall, — 
Dot's too bad for der baby. 

Dot makes him sing at night so schveet, 
Und garrydorric he must eat, 
Und I must chumb shpry on my feet, 
To help dot leetle baby. 

He bulls my nose and kicks my hair, 
Und grawls me ofer everywhere, 
Und schlobbers me — but vat I care, 

Dot vas my schmall young baby. 

Around my head dot leetle arm 
Vas schqueezin me so nice and varm — 
Oh ! may dhere never coom some harm 
To dot schmall leetle baby. 



THE CLOWN'S DESCRIPTION OF HIMSELF 
AND PARENTAGE. 

My father -was an independent gentle >an, for he kept a 
public house, or, properly speaking, one k^pt him. I have 
heard them say he died in an el- <vated position in life, and 
was carried off instantaneously by a kind of choking sensa- | 

tion, which was beyond the reach of medical skill. My 






THE CLOWN'S DESCRIPTION, ETC. 43 

mother was so inconsolable for bis loss, that three weeks 
after bis departure, she married her barman, and as I was a 
bar to his ultimate claims, I was posted off to sea, and sailed 
on board the Royal Oak for the North Pole, which, by-the- 
by, I have climbed up ten times a day, and at this moment I 
possess a toothpick which I cut myself out of one of the 
knots from the west surface of the pole ; having succeeded in 
sharpening it, to the astonishment of my wondering fellow- 
voyagers, they christened it Gulliver's Knotty Point, which 
to this day indicates completion of difficulty. About this 
time a fellow sprung up, who called himself Baron Mun- 
chausen, who, if he could speak two consecutive words of 
truth, was never found guilty of it once in his life. You 
must have heard one of his exaggerations, touching the 
thrusting bis arm down a lion's throat, and turning him in- 
side out. Ridiculous ! That was my exploit — not turning 
the lion, for I never turned anything in my life, unless it .was 
a traveler ; but that you will hear about presently. The 
origin of that feat was my slaying an African lion, which 
are very common in the Arctic reigons, and taking half-a- 
dozen turns of his tail over my right hand, I swung the 
roaring monster some half-a-dozen times round my head, and 
threw it from me with such an unexpected force, that the an- 
imal's raw carcass was hurled at least two miles away, leav- 
ing the entire skin, tail as well, in my possession, including 
claws and all, which I gave to a friend of mine, a lawyer, 
and that's how the word originated. Keep from the law- 
yer's claws. Returning home, we were within an inch of 
shipwreck, by running on to an iceberg ; but luckily our 
vessel was made of iron, so I persuaded the captain to make 
her hull red hot, which he did, and by that means we cut 
our passage through the mountain of ice without a single ac- 
cident. Being very fond of fishing, I tried an experiment 
for catching sharks, which answered remarkably well. This 
is it : take a strong rope, and tie one of the finest fed men 
you have on board to one end of it, throw him over into the 
water, where he can swim about till he attracts the notice of 
the shark, which will immediately pounce upon the bait ; 



44 BACHELORS AND FLIRTS. 

then all you've got to do is to pull them both on board, and 
having released the man from the monster's jaws, you can 
cut the animal up, giving the tail as a trophy to the brave 
fellow who performed the part of the bait. 



BACHELORS AND FLIRTS, 

JOSH BILLINGS. 

Somb old bachelors git after a flirt, and don't travel as fast 
as she doz, and then concludes awl the female group are 
hard to ketch, and good for nothing when they are ketched. 

A flirt is a rough thing to overhaul, unless the right dog 
gets after her, and then they make the very best of wives. 

When a flirt really is in love, she is as powerless as a 
mown daisy. 

Her impudence then changes into modesty, her cunning 
into fear, her spurs into a halter, and her pruning hook into 
a cradle. 

The best way to ketch a flirt is tew travel ther way from 
which they are going, or sit down on the ground and whistle 
some lively tune till the flirt comes round. 

Old bachelors make the flirts, and then the flirts get more 
than even by making the old bachelors. 

A majority of flirts get married finally, for they hev a 
great quantity of the most dainty titbits of woman's nature, 
and alwus have shrewdness to back up their sweetness. 

Flirts don't deal in po'try and water grewel ; they hev got 
to hev brains, or else somebody would trade them out of 
their capital at the first sweep. 

Disappointed luv must uv course be all on one side ; this 
ain't any more excuse fur being an old bachelor than it iz fur 
a man to quit all kinds of manual labor jist out uv spite, 
and jine a poor-house because he kan't lift a tun at one pop. 

An old bachelor will brag about his freedom to you, his re- 
lief from anxiety, hiz independence. This iz a dead beat, 
past resurrection, for everybody knows there ain't a more 
anxious dupe than he iz. All his dreams are charcoal- 






SMITH. 45 

sketches of boarding-school misses ; he dresses, greases hiz 
hair, paints his grizzly mustache, cultivates bunyons and 
corns tew please hiz captains, the wirnmeu, and only gets 
laffed at fur his pains. 

I tried being an old bachelor till I wuz about twenty years 
old, and came very near dying a dozen times. I hsid more 
sharp pain in one year than I hev had since, put it all in a 
heap. I was in a lively fever all the time. 



SMITH. 

RAZOR-STROP MAN. 

Smith, gentlemen, is an illustrious name. 
And stands very high in the annals of fame, 
Let White, Brown, or Jones increase as they will, 
Believe me that Smith will outnumber them still. 

Gentlemen, I am proud of being an original. Smith — 
not a Smiths, nor a Smythe, but a regular, natural, original 
S-m i-t-h, Smith. Putting a y in the middle or an e at the 
end, won't do, gentlemen. Who ever heard of a great man 
by the name of S-m-y-t-h or S-m-i-t-h-e. Echo answers who, 
and everybody answers nobody. But as for Smith — plain 
S-m-i-t-h, Smith — why the pillars of fame are covered with 
that honored and revered name. Who w«re the most racy, 
witty, and popular authors of this century ? Albert and John 
Smith. Who the most original, pithy and humorous preacher' 
Rev. Sidney Smith. To go further back, who was the bold- 
est and bravest soldier in Sumter's army in the Revolution ? 
Smith. Who palavered with Powhatan, gallanted with Po- 
cahontas, and became the ancestor of the first families of Vir- 
ginia? Smith again, 

And who, I ask, and I ask the question seriously and so- 
berly — who, I say, is that man. and what is his name, who 
has f jght the most battles, made the most speeches, preached 
tbr most sermons, held the most offices, sung the most songs, 
written the most poems, courted the most women, kissed the 
most girls, ran away with the most wives, and married the 



• 






46 HALF WAY DOIN'S. 

most widows ? History says, you say, I say, and everybody 
says, John Smith. To go back still further, the Scripture 
speaks of one Alexander, the Copper Smith. Further back 
still, we read of Tubal Cain, who was an artificer in brass and 
iron. He must undoubtedly have been a Black-Smith. And 
I have no doubt, gentlemen, that the great progenitor of our 
race would have been called Smith, if his name hadn't been 
Adam. 

Long live the Smiths — John Smith, Jim Smith, William 
Smith and Ann Smith. Long live blacksmith, goldsmith, 
coppersmith and locksmith ! When they cease to beat and 
fume and blow, you may take in your sign and say earth's 
show is done. 



HALF WAY DOHTS. 

IRWIN RUSSELL. 

Beltjbbed fellow trabelers : In holdin' forth to-day, 
I doesn't quote no special verse for what I has to say ; 
De sermon will be berry short, and dis here am the tex' : 
Dat "half way doin's ain't no 'count for dis worl' or de 
nex\" 

Dis wor'l dat we's a libbin' in is like a cotton row, 
Whar ebery cullud gentleman has got his line to hoe ; 
And ebery time a lazy nigger stops to take a nap, 
De grass keeps on a-growin' for to smudder up his crap. 

When Moses led de Jews acrost de waters ob de sea, 
Dey had to keep agoin', jes' as fas' as fas' could be ; 
Do you s'pose dat dey could eber hab succeeded in deir wish, 
And reached de Promised Land at last, if dey had stopped to 
fish? 

My frien's dar was a garden once, whar Adum libed wid Eve, 
Wid n >one 'round to bodder dem, no neighbors for to thieve, 
And ebery day was Christmas, and dey got deir rations free, 
And ebery ting belonged to them except an apple tree. 



SPEAKING FOR THE SHERIFF. 47 

You all know 'bout de story — how de snake come snoopin' 

roun' — 
A stump tail rusty moccasin, crawlin on the gronn' — 
How Eve and Adam ate de fruit, and went and hid deir face, 
Till de angel oberseer he come and drove 'em off de place. 

Now, s'pose dat man and 'ooman hadn't 'tempted for to shirk, 
But had gone about deir gardening and 'tended to deir work, 
Dey wouldn't hab been loafin' whar dey had no business to, 
And de debbil nebber'd got a chance to tell 'em what to do. 

No half way doin's, bredren ! It'll neber do, I say ! 
Go at your task and finish it, and den's de time to play — 
For even if de crap is good de rain'll spoil de bolls, 
Unless you keep a pickiu' in de garden ob your souls. 

Keep a ploughin' and a hoein', and a scrapin' ob de rows, 
And when de ginnin's ober you can pay up what you owes ; 
But if you quits a workin' ebery time de sun is hot, 
De sheriff's gwine to lebby upon ebery ting you's got. 

Whateber 'tis your dribin' at, be shore and dribe it through, 
And don't let nuffin' stop you, but do Avhat you's gwine to do; 
For when 'you sees a nigger foolin', den, as shore's you're 

born, 
You's gwine to see him comin' out de small end ob he horn. 

I thanks for de 'tention you has gib dis afternoon ; 
Sister Williams will oblige us by a raisin ob a tune. 
I see dat Brudder Johnson's 'bout to pass aroun' de hat. 
And don't let's hab no half way doin's when it comes to dat ! 



SPEAKING FOR THE SHERIFF. 

S. STCBBS. 

Ladies and Gentlemen : — I am a candidate for the office 
of Sheriff, and I appear before you to prefer my claims to 
that responsible office. 

I am a modest man — which is saying much, in these days 
of innmdence and ro<?uerv. 









48 SPEAKING FOR THE SHERIFF. 

I am content to be just what I am, and that is more than 
people in general can say, for this world is so given to flum- 
mery and show that almost everybody is a humbug. I am 
none of that. 

I can read, write and cipher, which is more than many a 
voter can do. 

I am polite, which is a desirable quality in a Sheriff. In a 
legislator it don't matter so much : and a Congressman may 
be a boor after he gets in office, but a Sheriff should be a po- 
lite man, for his duty is none of the pleasantest. To arrest 
a man for murder and not hurt his feelings, is the essence of 
politeness, and that I think I can do. 

I am not a married man, and this is a prime consider- 
ation in a Sheriff, for then his feelings are more likely to be 
subordinated to his duty. A married man has too many little 
affections for that office ; only a bachelor is fit to be Sheriff. 

I am able to pay my own bills. It is the custom, you 
know, for candidates to dead-head on their friends for food 
and lodging, and for money to carry on the canvass ; but, 
I'm not of the beggar tribe. I am able, I repeat, to pay my 
own way, which fact alone ought to commend me to your 
confidence. 

I'll save the public money by charging no more fees than 
the law allows ; I'll rob no man of his estate by levying on a 
whole farm to pay a petty debt. This is a great departure, I 
am aware, from the usual rule ; but, it's my way of doing 
business, if I am to be Sheriff. 

You can all do as you please, fellow-citizens, about voting 
for me. I shall not feel obliged to a voter and forever 
bound to favor him just because he has voted for me. I 
want no man's support who considers it a great favor to me. 
I know this is not the usual way for office-seekers to talk, 
but, as I have some self-respect yet left, I propose to exercise 
it, in and out of office. If I am fit for the trust, elect me ; 
if I am not fit, defeat me. That is all I have to say. 



VILLAGE SEWING SOCIETY. 49 

VILLAGE SEWING SOCIETY. 

ANONYMOUS. 

•' Mis' Jones is late agen to-day ; 

I'd be ashamed, now, ef 'twas me. 
Don't tell it, but I've heerd folks say 

She only comes to get her tea. 

" Law me ! she needn't want it here, 
The deacon's folks ain't much on eatin' ; 

They haven't made a pie this year ; 
Of course 'twont do to be repeatin' ; 

" But old Mis' Jenkins says it's true 
(You know she lives just 'cross the way, 

And sees most everything they do), 
She says she saw 'em t'other day " — 

14 Hush, here comes Hannah ! How d'ye do? 

Why, what a pretty dress you've got ! 
(Her old merino made up new ; 

I know it by that faded spot.") 

" Jest look ! there's Doctor Stebbins' wife — 

A bran-new dress and bimnit I — well — 
They say she leads him such a life ! 

But there ! I promised not to tell. 

" What's that, Mis' Brown? ' All friends/ of course 

And you can see with your own eyes 
That that gray mare's the better horse; 

Though gossipin' I do despise. 

" Poor Mary Allen's lost her bean- 
It serves her right, conceited thing ! 

She flirted awfully, I know, 

Sj> , have you heard she kept his ring ? 

" Listen ! the clock is striking six. 
Thank goodness ! then it's time for tea, 



50 HOW MOTHER DID IT. 

Now ain't that too much ? Abbey Mix 
Has folded up her work ! Just see ! 

" Why can't she wait until she's told? 

Yes, thank you, deacon, here we come. 
(I hope the biscuits won't be cold. 

No coffee ? Wish I was to hum !) 

'* Do tell, Mis' Ellis ! Did you make 
This cheese ? the best I ever saw. 

Such jumbles, too (no jelly cake); 
I'm quite ashamed to take one more 1 

" Good-bye ; we've had a first-rate time, 
And first-rate tea, I must declare. 

Mis' Ellis' things are always prime. 

(Well, next week's meetin' won't be there. ") 



HOW MOTHER DID IT. 

ANONYMOUS. 

If we were to suggest one thing which, above all 
other things combined, would niost contribute to the happi- 
ness of the young housekeeper, it would be to learn how to 
cook as a husband's mother cooked. Mother used to make 
coffee so and so ! Mother used to have such waffles ! and 
mother knew just how thick or how thin to make a squash- 
pie ! And, 0, if I could only taste of mother's biscuit ! 
Such are the comments of the husband, and of too many 
meal -tables. It would be only a little more cruel for the 
husband to throw his fork across the table, or to dash the 
contents of his teacup in his wife's face. The experience of 
a contrite husband is good reading for those men whose daily 
sauce is " How mother did it." He says : 

"1 found fault, some time ago, with Maria Ann's custard- 
pie, and tried to tell her how my mother made custard-pie. 
Maria made the pie after my recipe. It lasted longer than 
any other pie we ever had. Maria set it on the tabb every 



HOW MOTHER DID IT. 51 

day for dinner ; and you see I could not eat it, because I for- 
got to tell her to put in any eggs or shortening. It was eco- 
nomical : but in a fit of generosity I stole it from the pantry 
and gave it to a poor little boy in the neighborhood. The 
boy's funeral was largely attended by his former playmates. 
I did not go myself. 

"Then there were the buckwheat cakes. I told Maria Ann 
any fool could beat her making those cakes ; and she said I 
had better try it. So I did. I emptied the batter all out 
of the pitcher one evening and set the cakes myself. I got 
the flour and the salt and water ; and, warned by the past, 
put in a liberal quantity of eggs and shortening. I shortened 
with tallow from roast-beef, because I could not find any lard. 
The batter did not look right, and I lit my pipe and pon- 
dered. Yeast, yeast to be sure. I had forgotten the yeast. 
I went and woke up the baker, and got six cents' worth of 
yeast. I set the pitcher behind the sitting room stove 'and 
went to bed. 

" In the morning I got up early and prepared to enjoy my 
triumph ; but I didn't. That yeast was strong enough to 
raise the dead, and the batter was running all over the car- 
pet. I scraped it up and put it into another dish. Then I 
got a fire in the kitchen and put on the griddle. The first 
lot of cakes stuck to the griddle. The second dittoed, only 
more. Maria came down and asked me what was burning. 
She advised me to grease the griddle. I did it. One end of 
the griddle got too hot, and I dropped the thing on my ten- 
derest corn while trying to turn it around. 

" Finally the cakes were ready for breakfast, and Maria 
got the other things ready. We sat down. My cakes did 
not have exactly the right flavor. I took one mouthful, and 
it satisfied me. I lost my appetite at once. Maria would 
not let me put one on her plate. I think those cakes may be 
reckoned a dead loss. The cat would not eat them. The 
dog ran off and stayed away three days after one was offered 
to him. The hens wouldn'* go within ten feet of them. I 
threw them into the bac' yard, and there has not been a pig 
on the premises since. I eat what is put before me now, and 
do not allude to my mother's system of cooking." 



52 APPLES AND THEIR APPLICATION. 

APPLES AND THEIR APPLICATION. 

FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 

If this isn't an Agricultural Show it is a proper occasion 
to discourse of the fruit that Eve played off on Adam and 
thus kept us all out of Paradise. It 's a great satisfaction to 
know that Eve didn't know what she was about, for it 
proves that women doivt know everything, no matter what 
they pretend; and it's a great satisfaction, too, to know, 
that Adam was fool enough to take a bite, since Eve had 
done so before him, for, what a miserable fix this world 
would have been in if Adam had been gruff and growly, 
and so ungallant as to refuse an apple from Eve's beautiful 
hands ! The idea of we men going it alone, in any Para- 
dise, is too monstrous. A great Paradise it would be with- 
out women ! 

So, we are free to confess that apples are a celestial fruit 
even if Satan did deal in it, and never refuse to talk or eat 
when apples is up for consideration. 

There were twenty-two varieties of apples known to the 
Romans, at the time that Pliny wrote, and there are over two 
hundred varieties known to us at this writing. 

Besides the list of apples found in horticulural works, 
there are several other kinds not enumerated there. There 
are the Dead Sea apples, that are said to look fresh and in- 
viting without, but turn to dust as you attempt to quarter 
and core them. They are a species of dried apples not quo- 
ted in the market reports. There is the apple in the throat, 
sometimes called " Adam's apple," the apple of the eye, the 
npple-j)foa#, etc. 

Then we have the " golden apples of Hesperides," to secure 
which was one of the " twelve labors of Hercules " enjoined 
upon that classic athlete through the hostility of " cruel 
Juno." Hercules, remember, was the son of Jupiter, that 
mighty son of thunder, but his mother, being a daughter of 
Earth, Juno (Mrs. Hercules) was forninst .him from birth. 
The golden apples were a present to Juno at her wedding, 
from the goddess of the Earth, whose situation, by the way, 
lias since been filled with distinguished ability by the " God- 



APPLES AND THEIR APPLICATION. 53 

dess of Liberty," a central figure at all patriotic demonstra- 
tions. 

These apples Juno had intrusted to the keeping of the daugh- 
ters of Hesperis, ably assisted by a horrid dragon. The poets, 
led by the analogy of the lovely appearance of the western 
sky at sunset, viewed the West as a region of brightness and 
glory, hence it was there they placed tlie " Isle of the Hes- 
perides." Their home was on the setting sun ! 

But Hercules didn't know this, not being a reader of the 
poets. He sought out Atlas, the father of the Hesperides, 
condemned by the gods to support the weight of the heavens 
upon his shoulders, and offered to assume the burden him- 
self. 

Atlas would seek the apples and deliver them to him. At- 
las, being naturally well posted in geography, from which he 
is rarely separated, soon found the Hesperian Isle — "struck 
ile" as you might say — made his girls give up the apples, 
under a pretense of exhibiting them at the Horticultural Fair 
at the "Rink," and delivered them to Hercules. 

While an apple produced the first domestic difficulty on 
record, it was also the cause of the Trojan war, without 
which Homer and Virgil would have had no theme adequate 
for their quills. 

Thus it occurred . Eriz, the Goddess of Discord, enraged 
because she was not invited to a certain wedding attended by 
all the other members' of the celestial family, threw a golden 
apple among the guests, inscribed '•' For the fairest." Juno, 
Venus and Minerva claimed it ; which, on the part of Min- 
erva, was stated by the papers of the day to be the most 
foolish act of her life, for, like most wise virgins, although 
she had oil in her lamp, she wasn't "pooty." 

The decision being left to Paris, a shepherd on Mount Ida, 
though son of the king of Troy, he decided in favor of Venus, 
she having promised him the most beautiful woman in the 
world for a wife — and we may add that a handsome woman 
has had the inside track in the race ever since. 

Paris went to Greece, where he was hospitably received by 
Menelaus, King of Sparta, returning his hospitality, as is 
often the case, by running away with his wife, the fair Helen. 



54 SALLY HAYES. 

Menelaus, after advertising her in tlie Sparta Gazette as hav- 
iug left his bed and board, and warning people uot to trust 
her on his account, got up an expedition and sailed for Troy, 
where ihe guilty party had fled, for the purpose of recover- 
ing his wife, together with damages. The ten years' 
war that followed, ending in the downfall of Troy, is well 
known. 



SALLY HAYES. 

ANONYMOUS. 

A gossiping spinster was old Sally Hayes, 

Who ne'er saw in any one aught she could praise 

From early in life to the end of her days. 

No matter how good or how great was a man, 

Whether reared in America, France, or Japan, 

To censure, not praise him, was ever her plan. 

Where Sally resided she made it her trade 

To know if the bills of her neighbors were paid, 

And who all the rules of the Bible obeyed. 

Joy never illumined her sharp ugly face 

Except when some one who stood high in the place 

Had by a false step fallen into disgrace. 

The star of a scion to quickly decline, 

The fall of some maiden while heated by wine, 

Would cause her such rapture no pen could define. 

Detaining each person who passed by her door, 

By numberless questions an hour or more, 

Of the news of the town she kept a full store. 

For none who pass by were sufficiently bold 

To step e'en their feet over the slimy threshold 

Of this wretched odd jade of whom I have told. 

So Sally had made it an e very-day rule 

To quiz e'en the children who pass by the school, 

Not even forgetting one poor little fool. 

" Ah, what is the news ?" she beseechingly asked 

Of Joe Look, a wag, who her domicile passed 

On the dav that is known as an Annual Fast. 



NOBODY. 55 

" Did you know," replied Joe, " that Mr. Defife 

Hurled a knife at the face of Anna, his wife, 

Which cut a deep gash and endangered her life T 

'* Why, no," she exclaimed, seemingly greatly amazed, 

And as to the blue sky her gray eyes she raised, 

Her heart seemed to say, For this heaven be praised; 

For joy ne'er illumined her sharp, ugly face 

Except when some one who stood bright in the place, 

Had by a misstep fallen into disgrace. 

The star of a scion to quickly decline, 

The fall of some maiden while heated by wine 

Would cause her such rapture no pen could define. 

" Will it sear her fair face V Sally asked with a smile, 

" And think you that she a petition will file 

To be rid of Defife, so brutally vile ?" 

Joe said, as he felt a slight pang of remorse, 

" I hardly believe she will seek a divorce 

From a man who is kind e'en unto his horse." 

"Why did you not tell me that Mr. Defife 

Hurled a knife at the face of Anna, his wife, 

" Which cut a deep gash and endangered her life?" 

" I did, but it happened, so I have been told, 

When they were mere children — scarce seven years old, 

Ha ! ha ! Sally Hayes, ha ! ha ! you are sold." 



NOBODY. 

If nobody's noticed you, you must be small ; 
If nobody's slighted you, you must be tall ; 
If nobody's bowed to you, you must be low ; 
If nobody's kissed you, you're ugly we know ; 
If nobody's envied you, you're a poor elf; 
If nobody's flattered you, flatter yourself ; 
If nobody's cheated you, you are a knave ; 
If nobody's hated you, you are a slave ; 
If nobody's called you a " fool" to your face, 
Somebody's wished for your back in its place 






56 " WHY IS HE AN ACTOR ? " 

If nobody's called you a "tyrant" or "scold," 
Somebody thinks you of spiritless mould ; 
If nobody knows of your faults but " a friend. 
Nobody '11 miss them at the world's end ; 
If nobody clings to your purse like a fawn, 
Nobody'll run like a hound when it's gone ; 
If nobody's eaten his bread from your store, 
Nobody'll call you a "miserly bore ;" 
If nobody's slandered you — here is our pen — 
Sign yourself Nobody, quick as you can. 



"WHY IS HE AN ACTOR?" 

He is an actor simply because it is beyond his power to be 
otherwise. He would not make a merchant, nor a physician, 
nor farmer — would make absolutely nothing but what he is — 
good or bad, an actor. His sensibilities, his mind, his na- 
ture, drive him to that profession. It is not the love of gain, 
the desire for fame ; the ambition for honor — it is simply his 
■want of power to resist the influences that urge him to the ex- 
citing, precarious life of the stage. An actor is a man gov- 
erned not by one directing influence, but by many. He is too 
reckless to listen to the whispers of prudence ; he is too care- 
less and indiffereut to methodically seek the road to wealth. 
He is sympathetic, for he has felt its necessity. He is the 
creature of the present, realizing his mimicry on the stage. 
He is a pauper to-day, a very lord to-morrow. To-day he la- 
bors assiduously, industriously, recklessly — as recklessly as 
he does all other things. To-morrow he forgets that he ever 
knew labor or privation. Too generous to hoard, too extrav- 
agant to think, he lavishes his means as freely and easily as 
he acquires it. He is never despondent, never doubtful. The 
future always hold out to him its bright assurances. Antic- 
ipation beckons him smilingly on — the same fate that cruelly 
thrusts him back to-day, will benignly elevate him to-mor- 
row. His spirits are ever elastic, his hopes ever buoyant. 
Prodigal and wasteful, he is as imprudent and improvident as 



WHAT IS A BACHELOR LIKE ? 57 

ar child ; yet labors earnestly and well when occasion requires 
it. He has no thought beyond the present — his directing 
judgment is an impulse only. He would not make a minis- 
ter ; he is not serious enough, his mind could not bend it- 
self to listen calmly to the pleadings of a conscience-stricken 
soul. He would not make a physician ; his sympathy is too 
highly wrought to resist the deleterious appeals, the yielding 
to which would produce only injury. He would not make a 
merchant ; he is too reckless, too indifferent to study wealth, 
and behind the banker's desk would chafe with restraint like 
a confined lion. He is too unstable in his labor to till the 
.soil. He is fit for nothing but what he is — an actor : a pro- 
fession that gives scope to his various and varying excita- 
tions ; a profession that feeds aud fosters his volatile sensi- 
bilities, that satiates and subdues his restless, fickle passion. 
He is not an actor by choice — he is but a passive creature 
yielding to the power of his transient impressions. He has 
not chosen his profession — nature has chosen that, and the* 
has chosen him. 



WHAT IS A BACHELOR LIKE 

What is a bachelor like ? 

A man without a home and wife. 

Why, a pump without a handle, 

A mouldy tallow candle ! 

A goose that's lost his fellows, 

A useless pair of bellows, 

A horse without a saddle, 

A boat without a paddle ; 

A mule — a fool I 

A two-legged stool ! 

A pest — a jest ! 

Dreary — weary — 

Contrary — unchary — 
A fish without a tail, 
A ship without a sail, 
A legless pair of tongs, 



58 WHAT IS A BACHELOR LIKE ? 

A fork without its prongs, 

A clock without a face — 

A pig that's out of place ! 

A bootless leg — an addled egg ! 

A stupid flat — a crownless hat ; 

A pair of breeches wanting stitches ; 

A chattering ape — coat minus cape ! 

A quacking duck — wanting pluck ; 

A gabbling goose — mad dog let loose ! 
A boot without a sole, 
Or a cracked and leaky bowl, 
Or a fiddle without a string, 
Or a bee without its sting, 
Or a bat— or a sprat, 
Or a cat — or a hen, 
Or a rat — or a wren, 
Or a gnat — or a pig in a pen ! 
Or a thrush that will not sing, 
Or a bell that will not ring ! 
Or a penny that *' won't go !" 
Or a herring without salt ! 
Or a monkey— or a donkey ! 
Or a surly dog tied to a log ! 
Or a frog in a bog ! 
Or a fly in a mug ! 
Or a bug in a rug ! 
Or a bee — or a flea — 
Or a last year's pea — 
Or a figure 3 ! 

Like a bell without a tongue, 

Like a barrel without a bung, 

Like a whale — like a snail — 

Like an owl — like a fowl — 

Like a priest without his cowl ! 

Like a midnight ghoul ! 
Like a gnome in his cell — 

Like a clapperless bell — 
Like a man down a well ! 
He's a poor forsaken gander, 



* 



THE WANTS OP THE AGES. 59 

Choosing lonely thus to wander ! 

He's like a walking stick, or satchel, or — 

But to be plain, 

And end my strain, 
He's like naught but — a bachelor I 



THE WANTS OP THE AGES. 

It is a man's destiny still to be longing for something, and 
the gratification of one set of wishes but prepares the un- 
satisfied soul for the conception of another. The child of a 
year old wants little but food and sleep ; and no sooner is he 
supplied with sufficient allowance of either of those very ex- 
cellent things, than he begins whimpering or yelling it. may 
be for the other. At three, the young urchin becomes en- 
amoured of sugarplums, apple pies, and confectionery. At 
six, his imagination runs on kites, marbles, and tops, and an 
abundance of playtime. At ten, the boy wants to leave 
school, and have nothing to do but go birdnesting and black 
berry hunting. At fifteen he wants a beard and a watch, and 
a pair of boots. At twenty he wishes to cut a figure and ride 
horses ; sometimes his thirst for display breaks out in dandy- 
ism, and sometimes in poetry ; he wants sadly to be in love, 
and takes it for granted that all the ladies are dying for him. 
The young man of twenty-five wants a wife ; and at thirty he 
longs to be single again. From thirty to forty he wants to 
be rich, and thinks more of making money than spending it. 
About this time, also, he dabbles in politics and wants office. 
At fifty, he wants excellent dinners and capital wine, and 
considers a nap in the afternoon indispensable. The respect- 
able old gentleman of sixty wants to retire from business 
with a snug independence of three or four hundred thousands, 
to marry his daughters, set up his sons, and live in the coun- 
try ; and then for the rest of his life he wants to be young 
again. 






60 

DERMOT O'DOWD. 

LOVER. 

When Dermot O'Dowd coorted Molly McCann, 

They were as sweet as the honey and as soft as the down, 
But when they were wed they began to find out 

That Dermot could storm, and that Molly could frown ; 
They would neither give in — so the neighbors gave out — 

Both were hot, till a coldness came over the two, 
And Molly would flusther, and Dermot would blusther — 

Stamp holes in the fiure, and cry out " Weirasthru/ 

Oh, murther ! I'm married ! 

I wish I had tarried ; 
I'm sleepless and speechless — no word can I say *, 

My bed is no use — 

I'll give back to the goose 
The feathers I pluck'd on last Michaelmas Day." 

"Ah," says Molly, "you once used to call me a bird." 

" Faix, you're ready enough still to fly out," says he. 
" You said then my eyes were as bright as the skies, 

And my lips like the rose — now no longer like me." 
Says Dermot, " Your eyes are as bright as the morn, 

But your frown is as black as a big thunder cloud ; 
If your lip is a rose, faith your tongue is a thorn 

That sticks in the heart of poor Dermot O'Dowd." 
Says Molly, ' ' You once said my voice was a thrush, 

But now it's a rusty old hinge with a creak." 
Says Dermot, " You called me a duck when I coorted, 

But now I'm a goose every day in the week ; 
But all husbands are geese, though our pride it may shock, 

From the first 'twas ordained so by Nature, I fear ; 
Ould Adam himself was the first of the flock, 

And Eve, with her apple sauce, cook'd him, my dear. " 



A HARD-SHELL SERMON. 61 

A HARD-SHELL SERMON. 

A. GREENY. 

" And he passed cm to Shunkm." 

The words of my text, my hearers, you will find in IL 
Kings, iv. chapter, and — verse: "And he passed on to 
Shun' em." 

Take to heart the lesson your text teaches, and when 
temptations try you, and evils lie in wait to insnare you, 
" pass on to shun'em." 

When you see men of wrath fighting and breaking heads 
and sticks, and hear them cursing and swearing, mind the 
words of the text, and " pass on to Shun'em." 

And oh, my hearers, if you should come into our little 
town and behold a row of nice little offices with tin signs on 
the doors of each, and hear men talking of attachments with- 
out affection, and sequestrations without quiet-ah— and 
seize yours and never theirs-ah — it will be to your profit to 
mind the words of the prophet, and " pass on to Shun'em." 

And if you go round where the merchants are-ah — and 
they rush out to shake hands with you, and are especially 
anxious to learn the condition of your wife's health and the 
children's, and the worms and the crops, and offer to sell 
you a little bill of goods a good deal lower than their cost, 
on account of their love for you and for each-ah — '■ pass on 
to Shun'em." 

And if you should happen to go round the corner and see 
men drinking beer, that will bring them to a bier, and gin^ 
sling-down the strongest, and smashes that will smash 4 
man's fortune faster than commission merchants who advance 
supplies on the last crop-ali — oh, "pass on to Shun'em." 

But oh ! my hearers ! if you should go down to New York , 
— that modern Sodom and Gomorrah-ah — and when the gas- 
lights are flashing and glimmering, and the cabs are dashing 
along the street, and obliging drivers are offering to carry 
you where only steamboat captains and the first gentlemen 
go-ah — and Broadway is on a rip and a roar-ah — and the 
brass bands are crashing music from the balconies, and men 
in little holes are ready to sell you tickets to go in and see 



62 HOW UB VAS DOT FOR HIGH ? 

the Black Crook dance with nothing to wear — and make 
spectacles of themselves-ah — oh, my friends, ' ' pass on to 
Shun'ein." 

And oh ! if later in the evening, with a very particular 
friend, you go up stairs into most splendidly-furnished 
rooms-ah — and see the supper-table spread with delicacies 
from every country — and tea, ducks and snipe, and yaller- 
legged pheasants, and all that fish, flesh and fowls can afford 
— and champagne and brandy and Burgundy and Chateau 
Lafitte older than Waterloo — and nothing to pay and all free 
— and a nice gentleman with rings on his fingers, and a 
diamond breast-pin, playing with little spotted pasteboards, 
and another turning a machine and dropping in a little ball 
that rolls round and round and stops sometimes on the eagle- 
bird and oftener don't — and where the players generally put 
down more than they take up — and men sometimes win but 
mostly dont-ah — oh, " pass on to Shun'em." 

And in conclusion, my friends, when the world, the flesh 
and the devil-ah — lie in wait for you, " pass on to Shun'em.'' 



HOW UB VAS DOT FOR HIGH ? 

OOFTY GOOFT. 
Dere vas von dime a leedle olt Gwaker 
Dot leefed in a blace by der name of Jeemaker, 
Und he made up his mind he vood wrode for der baper, 
So he did, und dot's bully of him. 

He vent in der house und he sid down von nighd 
For to made ub his mind und dought vat to wride, 
Ven der vind dot plowed in und dot pud oud der lighd, 
Und dot made gwide grankey, I bed you. 

Der Gwaker he owed such a nine dollar node 
To a German from Brussia, von Beder Gabode, 
Und he vent by der door as der lighd oud vas plowed, 
Und der Gwaker clinked Bede was der plowisd. 



HOW UB VAS DOT FOR HIGH ? 03 

Bede didn't vas vorking dot fine afdernoon 
He vas Maying "seven oud " in a lager saloon, 
Ven lie vent by der Gvvaker's he vissled der dune 
Of " Dot Gal as lifs der way ofer." 

Dot Gwaker vas mat und lie sliweared like der doose, 
Und he called dot poor Bedey a blame "Gosling's Goose ;" 
Und said : — He vood bead him glean oud of his shoes 
Of he didn'd valk off on his ear vonce 1" 

Bud Bede didn'd vent — he shdood shdill like a log, 
Und der Gwaker shwelled ub mit moat like a frog 
He vas jusd boud der same like a leedle Shblitz dog 
Ven he gots such a vild hyderfoby. 

He jumbed und he sliweared, und he made such a din, 
Vas going to bull Bedey glean out of his shkin, 
Und oh ! vat a biggie der Gwaker vas in — 

Dey dinked sure dot he vill vent grazy. 

A boleesesman habbened to come righd along, 
Und he shbied der olt Gwaker a going id shdrong, 
So he made oud his mind dot boor Bedey vas wrong 

Und he vent und he snadched him paid-headed. 

He marched Misder Bedey, I dink boud a mile, 
In frond of der Judge, who, mit many a shmile, 
Gifed Bedey dwelf days on dot bewdiffel isle 
Dot is noading oud in der Easd Rifer. 

Der Gwaker vent home und he finished his wride, 
Mitoud gidding in drouple some more mit his lighd, 
Und ven dot corned oud in der baper next nighd 

Mosd efryvon said, " Aind dot shblendid T* 

He took for his supjeck a ding dot's quide new, 
Und von dot der vorld dot aind seldom sliduck to ; 
Id vas : — " Do by your naybor like he dowes mit you," 
Ven he dowes vat ye call " on der lefel." 






64 pat's letter. 

Dere's a moral in dis leedle shdory, I'fe said ; 
Dot's of you kin got jusd vonce drough your head — 
Of you don't kin, vy, vaid dill dot Oofty vas dead, 
Und den may be he'll come und oxblain it- 



PAT'S LETTER. 

Well, Mary, me darlint, I'm landed at last, 

And troth, though they tell me the st'amer was fast, 

It sames as if years upon years had gone by 

Since Paddy looked intill yer beautiful eye ! 

For Amerikay, darlint — ye'll think it is quare — 

Is twinty times f urder than Cork from Kildare ; 

And the say is that broad, and the waves are that high, 

Ye're tossed like a f ut-ball 'twixt wather and shky ; 

And ye fale like a pratie just burstin' the shkin, 

That all ye can do is to howld yersilf in. 

Ochone ! but, me jewel, the say may be grand : 

But, when ye come over, dear, travel by land! 

It's a wondherful country, this — so I am towld — 

They'll not look at guineas, so chape is the gowld : 

And the three that poor mother sewed into my coat 

I sowld for a thrifle, on l'aving the boat. 

And the quarest of fashions ye iver have seen ! 

They pay ye with picters all painted in green. 

And the crowds that are rushing here, morning and night, 

Would make the lord-lieutenant shake with the fright. 

The strates are that full that there's no one can pass, 

And the only law is, " Do not thread on the grass." 

Their grass is the quarest of shows — by me vow — 

For it wouldn't be munched by a Candlemas cow. 

Tell father I wint, as he bid me, to see 

His friend, Tim O'Shannon, from Killycaughnee. 

It's rowling in riches O'Shannon is now, 

With a wife and tin babies, six pigs and a cow, 



THE " DEAD BEAT " IN POLITICS. 65 

In a nate little house, standing down from the strate, 
With two beautiful rooms, and a pig-sty complate. 
I thought of ye, darlint, and drained such a drame 1 
That mebbe, some day, we'd be living the same ; 
Though, troth, Tim O'Shannon's wife niver could dare 
(Poor yaller-skinned crayther) with you to compare ; 
While, as for the pigs, shure 'twas aisy to see 
The bastes were not mint for this land of the free. 

I think of ye, darlint, from morning till night ; 

And when I 'm not thinking ye 're still in me sight ! 

I see your blue eyes, with the sun in their glance — 

Your smile in the meadow, your fut in the dance. 

I '11 love ye, and thrust ye, both living and dead 1 

(Let Phil Blake look out for his carroty head !) 

I 'm working, acushla, for you — only you 1 

And I'll make ye a lady yit, if ye '11 be true ; 

Though, troth, ye can't climb Fortune's laddher so quick, 

Whin both of your shouldhers are loaded with brick ; 

But I'll do it — I declare it, by — this and by that — 

Which manes what I daren't say — from 

Your own Pat. 



THE "DEAD BEAT" IN POLITICS. 

U. B. GREEN. 

I stand before you, fellow-citizens, a candidate for your 
suffrages, for the high office of a seat or a bench in our leg- 
islative halls. The united voice of six men, to my certain 
knowledge, has proclaimed me the people's choice ; and who 
can resist such a call ? Not I! 

If the men who have suffered for their country's sake are 
to be trusted and honored, then I have sevej-al and various 
claims on your hearts and hands. Did I not fly to arms, and 
become a quartermaster, when rebellion stalked through the 
land ? You know I did ! I left this neighborhood for the tented 
field, a poor man ; I rode in a wagon, and dealt out supplies 
to hungry men through the Vicksburg campaign, and re- 






66 THE "dead beat" in politics. 

turned home shaking with the ague, and was only just able 
to buy a farm that I had wanted for many a year. 

(Voice in audience : " Where did you get the money ?") 

It is astonishing what mean men there is in this world. 
Whose business is it where I got the money ? Didn't I feed 
the troops with fresh-beef and corn-coffee when others were 
serving out " old horse," as it was called, and burnt beans? 
You know I did, you mean sneak I 

(Another voice : " How about old mule ?" 

I '11 lick that chap, as sure as my name isn't Red-top 
Smith. ' Old mule, hey? Who says I gathered in the dead 
mules, and sarved 'em out as fresh -beef, is a liar, and I can 
prove it, for I lived on that meat myself, for six days — 

(Another voice : "And very sick days they were, old fel- 
low /") 

Well, whose business was that ? It cost you nothing for 
physic, and if I did have mule hides to sell, it was no sign 
that I skinned all the mules Grant would allow to drop out 
of his trains. No, sir ! I lived and suffered for my country, 
and merit the reward that ought to be conferred upon every 
man as does his duty in a time of public peril. 

A legislator ought to be a man of experience, one who has 
not only seen much of the world, but who has — 

(A voice: " Run away with another man's wife /") 

May the eternal elements blast your picture, you flat-nosed 
vagabond ! No woman would run away with you, any 
more 'n she 'd eat a shunk's liver. Hun away with another 
man's wife? No, sir ! I never did that ! Oh, that one wbo 
had passed all through the perils of the Vicksburg campaign 
should return to the bosom of his constituents to be so ma- 
ligned ! Oh, that— 

( Voice : ' ' Dry up /") 

No, I won't dry up ! I '11 have my rights, if I die for 'em, 
and I '11 stand here until I gets them, too ; so you had better 
dry up, yourself. 

Friends and fellow-citizens, I now call upon you to con- 
sider the great questions before the country involved in my 
election. I see before my mind's eye — 



THIN MAN FROM DAYTON. G7 

All the voices: "Money!" "Old mule!" "Another 
man's wife!" "Dry up!") 

(SigJis) It's no use tulkin' any more! There'll be four 
funerals in the town to-morrow, and after that comes the 
election. (Stalks off the stage, beating the air with hisjists.) 



THIN MAN FROM DAYTON. 

One morning, soon after the eating stands on the Central 
Market had been thrown open to the maw of the hungry pub- 
lic, and while Mrs. Magruder was telling a small boy that she 
could hold up her hand and swear that she never used beans 
in her coffee, a stranger came along and asked if he could 
get a bit to eat. Mrs. Magruder has been on the market for 
many years, and she thinks she knows a thing or two. She 
has flattered herself that she could tell to a bite just how 
much a customer could eat, and she has for years, had an un- 
disguised contempt for thin-bodied, spare-faced men, who 
try to chew their coffee and mince their toast. 

This stranger was a little better than a six-foot shadow. 
His fore-ground consisted of a shirt-collar and a mouth as 
big as a mince-pie, and the perspective revealed nothing but 
two hollow eyes set below a thin line of sandy-eyebrows. 
He remarked that he had just arrived from Dayton, and was 
somewhat hungry, but wanted first to inquire how much his 
breakfast would cost him, as he was rather short of funds. 

"Oh ! I suppose you may be able to worry down six or 
seven cents! worth of provisions and a cup of coffee," she 
replied. 

" Suppose you say twenty-five cents for all I want to eat?" 
he said, as the corners of his eyes began to twitch. 

Mrs. Magruder looked him over and mentally calculated 
that she would make just thirteen cents by the bargain, and 
she replied : 

"I must have my money in advance, you know." 

" Oh, certainly — here it is. Now, then, I'm to eat my fill 
for the quarter ? " 



68 THIN MAN FROM DAYTON. 

She said that was the understanding, and winked at the 
woman in the next stall. The thin man from Dayton doub- 
led up on a stool, opened his mouth, and a fried sausage went 
out of sight so quickly that the last end seemed to smoke. A 
fried cake followed, then a second sausage, and after a gulp 
or two the man handed out his cup with the words : 

" That tastes like real coffee — gimme some more." 

While she was filling the cup he got away with t%vo hot 
biscuits and a slice of beef, and the coffee came just in time 
to wash down a hunk of mince pie. He could use both arms 
and his mouth at once, and he attended strictly to business. 
When Mrs. Magruder had filled the third cup her smile had 
quite vanished. She saw that she wouldn't come out even . 
without resorting to strategy, and she began asking ques- 
tious. The man answered none of them except by a mourn- 
ful shake of the head. Crash ! crash ! went his jaws, and he 
reached out from the shoulder like clock work. Mrs. Ma- 
gruder called his attention to a dog fight across the way, but 
he ate faster than ever. The bell struck 9, and she remark- 
ed that a big conflagration was raging at the Union depot, 
but the man did not raise his eyes. 

When Mrs. Magruder discovered that she was at least six 
shillings behind, she said that she was a " poor widow with 
five children to support." 

" How I do pity you ! " replied the man as he passed his 
cup with one hand and raked in a biscuit with the other. 

Then Mrs. Magruder told a story about a man dropping 
dead on the market the day before on account of overeating, 
but the man got away with two fried cakes and replied : 

"Curious how some folks will make hogs of themselves." 

At length Mrs. Magruder wanted to know how much long- 
er he could stand "it, and the thin man from Dayton gave her 
a reproachful glance and anssvered : 

"Have I thus early fallen in with swindlers and fals- 
ifiers ? " 

She. let him go on for three or four minutes more, and 
then she hinted that a detective was prowling around there 
evidently "spotting" some one. 



THAT HIRED GIRL. 69 

"If he'll only give me twenty-five minutes to finish my 
breakfast, he can take me and be hanged ! " answered the 
man, and his arms worked faster than ever. 

Mrs. Magruder was cornered. She laid his money down, 
and asked him for the sake of her poor orphans to move on 
and leave her at least one fried cake as a "business foundation. 
He paused with his cup held out for the seventh time, and 
perhaps something in her tearful look reminded him of his 
poor dead mother, for he said : 

" Well, I'm only human, and I admit that my heart is ten- 
der. I don't like to break off in the middle of my breakfast, 
but I'll take the money and move on for your children's 
sake. " 

He got up looking just as much like a lath as when he sat 
down, and when he was out of sight Mrs. Magruder 
turned to the desolate ruins and groaned out : 

" I'll take my solemn oath if four dollars will make me 
good for this, and I must tell my husband that I fitted out a 
schooner on trust ! " 



THAT HIRED GIRL. 

THE MINISTER'S RECEPTION ON HIS FIRST CALL IN HIS NEW 
PARISH. 

When she came to work for the family on Congress street, 
the lady in the house sat down and told her that agents, book- 
peddlers, hat- rack men, picture sellers, ash-buyers, ragmen, 
and all that class of people, must be met at the front door and 
coldly repulsed, and Sarah said she'd repulse them if she had 
to break every broomstick in Detroit. 

And she did. She threw the door open wide, bluffed right 
up at 'em, and when she got through talking, the cheekiest 
agent was only too glad to leave. It got so after awhile that 
peddlers marked that house, and the door-bell never rang ex- 
cept for company. 

The other day, as the girl of the house was wiping off the 
spoons, the bell rang. She hastened to the door, expecting to 
see a lady, but her eyes encountered a slim man, dressed in 






70 THAT HIRED GIRL. 

black, and wearing a white necktie. He was the new minis- 
ter, and was going around to get acquainted with, the mem- 
bers of his flock, but Sarah wasn't expected to know this. 

" Ah — uni — is — Mrs. — ah !" 

"Git !" exclaimed Sarah, pointing to the gate. 

"Beg pardon, but I would like to see — see — " 

"Meander !" she shouted, looking around for a weapon ; 
" we don't want any flour-sifters here !" 

" You're mistaken," he replied, smiling blandly. I called 
to—" 

" Don't want anything to keep moths away — fly !" she ex- 
claimed, getting red in the face. 

" Is the lady in?" he inquired, trying to look over Sarah's 
head. 

"Yes, the lady is in, and I'm in, and you are out !' she 
snapped ; "and now I don't want to stand here talking to a 
fly-trap agent any longer ! Come, lift your boots !" 

" I'm not an agent/' he said, trying to smile. "I'm the 
new — " 

"Yes, I know you — you are the new man with the patent 
flat-iron, but we don't want any, and you'd better go before I 
call the dog !" 

"Will you give the lady my card, and say that I called ?" 

"No I won't ; we are bored to death with cards and hand- 
bills and circulars. Come, I can't stand here all day." 

" Didn't you know that I was a minister?" he asked as he 
backed off. 

" No, nor I don't know it now ; you look like the man who 
sold the woman next door a dollar chromo for eighteen shil- 
lings." 

" But here is my card." 

" I don't care for cards, I tell you ! If you leave that gate 
open I will have to fling a flower pot at you !" 

" I will call again," he said, as he went through the gate. 

" It won't do any good !" she shouted after him ; "we 
don't want no prepared food for infants — no piano music — no 
stuffed birds ! I know the policeman on this beat, and if you 
come around here again, he'll soon find out whether you are 
a confidence man or a vagrant !" 

And she took unusual care to lock the door. 



LOVE AND MURDER. 71 

LOVE AND MURDER. 

In Manchester a maiden dwelt, 

Her name was Phoebe Brown ; 
Her cheeks were red, her hair was black, 

And she was considered by good judges to be 
by all odds the best-looking girl in town. 

Her age was nearly seventeen, 

Her eyes were sparkling bright ; 
A very lovely girl she was, 

And for about a year and a half there had been 
a young man paying his attention to her, by the name of 
Reuben Wright. 

Now Reuben was a nice young man 

As any in the town, 
And Phcebe loved him very dear, 

But on account of his being obliged to work for 
a living, he never could make himself agreeable to old Mr. 
and Mrs. Brown. 

Her parents were resolved 

Another she should wed, — 
A rich old miser in the place, — 

And old Brown frequently declared, that rather 
than have his daughter marry Reuben Wright, he 'd sooner 
knock him in the head. 

But Phoebe's heart was brave and strong, 

She feared not her parents' frowns ; 
And as for Reuben Wright, so bold, 

I've heard him say more than fifty times that 
(with the exception of Phcebe) he didn't care a cent for the 
whole race of Browns. 

So Phoebe Brown and Reuben Wright 

Determined they would marry ; 
Three weeks ago last Tuesday night, 

They started for old Parson Webster's, deter- 
mined to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony, though 
it was tremendous dark, and rained like the old Harry. 



72 FEMALE TENDERNESS. 

But Captain Brown was wide awake, 

He loaded up his gun, 
And then pursued the loving pair ; 

He overtook 'em when they 'dgot about half way 
to the parson's, and then Reuben and Phoebe started off upon 
the run. 

Old Brown then took a deadly aim 

Toward young Reuben's head, 
But, oh ! it was a bleeding shame, 

He make a mistake, and shot his only daughter, 
and had the unspeakable anguish of seeing her drop right 
down stone dead. 

Then anguish filled young Reuben's heart 

And vengeance crazed his brain, 
He drew an awful jack-knife out, 

And plunged it into old Brown, about fifty or 
sixty times, so that it's very doubtful about his ever coming 
too. 

The briny drops from Reuben's eyes 
In torrents poured down, — 

And in this melancholy and heart rending manner 
terminates the history of Reuben and Phoebe, and likewise old 
Captain Brown. 



FEMALE TENDERNESS. 

DOUGLAS JEKROLD. 

I was one of a party of five in the inside of a stagecoach : 
among whom were a jolly butcher, and an elderly maiden lady 
in green spectacles. 

At a stopping place the coachman was regaling himself 
with some foaming ale, when he was accosted by an official 
looking personage ; and some whispers passed, from which I 
learned that a convict was about to be forwarded to the next 
seaport. The coachman, however, to do him justice, 



FEMALE TENDERNESS. i3 

softened tlie matter to the passengers with all possible skill. 

" If you please, ma'am and gemmen, I wants to make room 
here for an individual." 

" Is he a gentleman, coachman? and has he any pipe?" 
asked the lady in green spectacles. 

" Quite a gentleman, ma'am, and not a morsel of backey 
about him ; and what's more, hasn't a ha'penny to buy a 
bit." 

" Why, who is he? he has not much the cut of a gentle- 
man ! where's he bound for ?" 

" Why, he's going out of the country on the service of 
government." 

*' On the service of government ! — a scientific man, doubt- 
less ? What does he know ? chemistry or geology ? or is he 
acquainted with botany t" 

' • Why, not yet, ma am — though that's what he's going for. 
The fact is, ma'am — " 

" Now no nonsense, coachman, " says the butcher, "is he 
not a convict ?" 

" Why that's what the unfeeling calls 'em, but we as have 
pity says, unfortunate." 

" Pho ! pho ! why, he has the gallows in his face !" 

" Yes, sir ; and now he's worn irons, lie's got a newgate in 
his legs. " 

" Oh, I can't admit a felon ; I shall leave the coach !" 

" Lord bless you, ma'am ! he isn't a felon, — he's only found 
guilty of burglarly !" 

" Burglary! O— What ! Ride with a burglar? I wouldn't 
for the world. I will leave the coach !" 

" Don't do that, ma'am — there's no occasion ; the poor fel- 
low says, to make him himself agreeable, he'll wear hand- 
cuffs for the rest of the journey." 

" But burglarly I he has committed burglarly, Mr. Coach- 
man ! I wouldn't ride with him for the world !" 

"'Burglarly ! who said burglarly? I s&i&bigamy, — bigamy 
ma'am, — he's transported for marrying seven wives I" 

1 ' Seven wives I Poor fellow ! let him come in,'" 






74 THE MENAGERIE. 

THE MENAGERIE 

HONEYWELL. 

Did you ever ? No, I never ! 

Mercy on us, what a smell ! 
Don't be frightened, Johnny dear ! 

Gracious ! how the jackalls yell. 
Mother, tell me what's the man 

Doing with that pole of his ? 
Bless your little precious heart. 

He's stirring up the beastesses ! 

Children, don't you go so near ! 

Hevings ! there's the Afric cowses ! 
What's the matter with the child ? 

Why, the monkey's tore his trowsers ! 
Here's the monstrous elephant — 

I'm all a-tremble at the sight ; 
See his monstrous toothpick, boys — 

Wonder if he's fastened tight? 

There's the lion ! see his tail ! 

How he drags it on the floor ! 
'Sakes alive ! I'm awful scared 

To hear the horrid creatures roar ! 
Here's the monkeys in their cage, 

Wide awake you are to see 'em ; 
Funny, ain't it ? How would you 

Like to have a tail and be 'em ? 

Johnny, darling, that's the bear 

That tore the naughty boys to pieces. 
Horned cattle ! only hear 

How the dreadful camel wheezes ! 
That's the tall giraffe, my boy 

Who stoops to hear the morning lark ; 
'Twas him who waded Noah's flood, 

And scorned the refuge of the ark. 



75 



Here's the crane — the awkward bird ! 

Strong his neck is as a whaler's, 
And his bill is full as long 

As ever met one from from the tailor' 
Look ! just see the zebra there ! 

Standing safe behind the bars : 
Goodness me ! how like a flag, 

All except the corner stars ! 

There's the bell ! the birds and beasts 

Now are going to be fed ; 
So, my little darlings, come, 

It's time for you to be a-bed. 
"Mother, 'tisn't nine o'clock ! 

You said we needn't go before ; 
Let us stay a little while — 

Want to see the monkeys more ! " 

Cries the showman, " Turn 'em out ! 

Dim the lights ! there, that will do ; 
Come again to-morrow, boys ; 

Bring your little sisters, too." 
Exit mother, half distraught, 

Exit father, muttering " Bore ! " 
Exit children, blubbering still, 

" Want to see the monkeys more ! " 



BOYS' RIGHTS. * 

BY ONE OF 'EM. 

Talk about the women and darkeys and the — the — all the 
rest of 'em ; none of 'em all are half so badly used as the 
boys are. I know a lot and can give you all their names. 
Ask 'em all. They'll tell you to be a boy is to be somebody 
without a right in the world. 

You're to take all the sass that's given to you and give 
none back, 'cause you're a boy. You are to pay full fare in 



76 

the cars and omnibusses/cause you're a boy, and not a child, 
and never have a seat, because you're a boy and not a man. 
Fat lady gets in after it's all full, and looks about her ; 
everybody looks at you. Old gentleman says : " My son," 
reprovingly. Conductor says: "Come now, you boy!" 
You've paid your sixpence. No matter, that's nothing. You 
have been on your legs, with a bundle, all day. Who cares ? 
you're a boy ! Now a horse has a load given to him as he 
can carry ; and a man won't take any more than he can walk 
under. Ask boys what grown folks think they can carry. 
There is no limit to it. 

Who don't know a boy who does a man's work, and does 
it well, for a tenth of what a man would get for it ? Who 
hasn't seen an advertisement for a boy who writes a good 
hand, understands accounts, is willing to make himself 
useful, boards with his parents, is trustworthy, no objection 
to sitting up all night, no impudence about him, the best 
recommendations required, and $2.00 a week wages. 

Ask boys whether old folks don't make as much fuss 
about such places as if they were doing you a favor that 
would set you up for life. 

Who w r ants a boy anywhere? Your sister don't in the 
parlor. Your father don't ; always asks if you are wanted 
to do something somewhere. You make your mother's head 
ache every time you come near her. Old ladies snap at you. 
Young ladies hate boys. Young men tease you, and give it 
to you if you tease back. Other fellows, it's because they're 
aggravated so, I know, always want to fight if they don't 
know you ; and when you get a black eye, or a torn jacket, 
you hear of it at home. 

You look back and wonder if you ever were that pretty 
little chap in petticoats that everybody stuffed with candy, 
and you wonder whether you'll ever be a man, to be liked by 
the girls, and treated politely by the other fellows, paid for 
your work and allowed to do as you choose. And you make 
up your mind every day not to be a boy any longer than you 
can help it ; and when your grandfather, or somobody, 
complains that there are " no boys now," you wonder if he 



A TALE OF LOVE. 77 

remembers the life he led, that he don't consider it as a 
subject of rejoicing. 

There is only one comfort in it all ; boys will grow up, and 
when they do, they generally forget all they went through in 
their youth, and make the boys of their day suffer just as 
they did. 



A TALE OF LOVE. 

A. L. HARVEY. 

Two lovers were strolling, hand in hand, 
Hand in hand, they were wand'ring on, 

Wand'ring on o'er the shimmering sand. 
Her name was Ellen ; his name was John. 

Their hearts beat fast as they slowly strolled, 
Slowly strolled, while the moon looked on, 

Moon looked on, while his love he told, 
Told his love to Ellen, did John. 

Ellen she blushed and she whispered low, 
Whispered low that she loved him, too, 

Loved him, too, and for weal or woe, 
Weal or woe, she would e'er be true. 

He pressed a kiss on her ruby lips, 
Ruby lips, with a "yum-yum-yum," 

But the cup of bliss quite frequently slips, 
Frequently slips, when you long for some. 

A spasm of terrible anguish seemed, 
Anguish seemed to torture the maid, 

Torture the maid, and she yipped and screamed, 
Like the average noctural serenade. 

" Ellen !" cried John, in horrified tones, 
Horrified tones, " Hath the angel of Death, 

Angel of Death, provoked those groans, 
'Voked those groans so awful V he saith. 



78 THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR. 

' Nay," she said, with a shutter and sigh, 
Shutter and sigh, " not death," said she, 
" Death," said she, "but I hope to die 
If I don't flatten that pesky flea l" 



THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR. 

ANONYMOUS. 

There came a gentle knock — 
I heard it with surprise — 

At half -past eight o'clock, 
The time I always rise. 

I listened and I thought 

What that low tap could mean — 
The water had been brought, 

The butcher's boy had been. 

The post had come and gone, 
The letters lay around — 

From Boston and Whitestone, 
Peru and Hudson sound. 

Perhaps it was a note ; 

A telegram to say 
My aunt had caught the boat, 

And would be here to-day. 

Perhaps it was a bill — 
The messenger to wait ; 

Perhaps my brother Phil 
To take me out to skate. 

Conjectures such as these 

Passed swiftly thro' my brain ; 

I hardly felt at ease, 

When lo ! that knock asrain. 



STUMP SPEECH. 79 

And then there came a v«ice — 
Our nursemaid's voice, forsooth — 

Which made my heart rejoice 
With — ' ' Baby's got a tooth !" 



stum;p speech. 

My hily culud brudrin an sistrin : 

Sach de scripters from Levi T. Kuss to Pocriphy, and from 
Danyel to Nebbycasneezar, and you can't find a tex of haff de 
walu and signif umcunce ob de one dat i hab extrakted for dis 
day's preachment from de chronicals ob Washington. Open 
youm mouffs, eyes an ears, an lissen to de stunnin wuds : 

'■* Woe be unto you, publicans an sinners, ye repre bates of 
boff houses, dat hab robbed de trezury ob a million an a haff, 
and divied it among yoursefs." 

My brudrin, dis stealin by holesale out ob de public crib, 
widout eben hidin de sin from de eyes ob de people, am 
gettin to be too serous a biznis to be tollyated or indoord. 
Not sassyfied wid five tousan dollars a yeer — ten times as 
much as youm belubbed pasture gits for his effotes in sabin 
you all from de red hot claws ob de debble — dese repre bates 
ob de people in Kongriss, in whom we hab intrusted our pol- 
lyticul libes, our gold and greenbacks, and de berry eggist- 
unce ob de nashun, hab cum de grab game ober Unkil Sams 
trezury to de tune ob a millyon an a haff, an divied it among 
darsefs. 

Woe be unto dem, dead beets all ! for dem dat didn't wote 
for de steal, wur glad enuff to tuk dar divy ob de spiles, an 
as it am recordid in de chronicals ob de Suns of Malty, dat de 
receiber am bad as de tief, darfo dey am all in de same cat- 
tygorry, wid one or two honable ceptions ob men who posi- 
tibly refused to be pals ob chief Butler's ban ditty. 

I hab alus tole you, my brudrin, dat wite man am berry 
onsartin, and now you nose it. De moss honist ob dem wil 
fall from grace sumtimes, eben gemmen ob de clurgycul per- 
f eshun. Look at poo' Ilarlum an Pattysun. Dey cud no mo 



80 STUMP SPEECH. 

stand de temptations atniusfear ob Washington dan a hungry 
jackass can keep his nose out ob a tub ob otes ; an it am so 
wid pooty much all ob dem. De moss morul, de moss tem- 
prate, de moss pieus, de moss relijus ob de wite race wen dey 
Lab been roun heah bout a yeer, a yeer an a haff or two veers, 
dey becum so mammonized, an dey am so greedy aterde filfy 
lucor dat dey am willin de debble shal hab dar soles, if dey 
can ony fill dar coffers to de brim. Dat ain't de case wid 
culor, tank heaben. Dar am nuffin from de ilean to de norf 
side, and from de capital to de wite house, in de shaip ob 
temptashun dat any wel bred, spectreble nigger cudn't resiss 
weder his sole was in jepardy or not. Dat shoze de difference 
and de speariority atwix culor an no culor — a speariority dat 
some wite men can see, but don't hab de morul curage to 
stand up manfully and acnolidge it. 

Wo unto you publicuns and sinners ! De day ob wraff wil 
cum as shuly as de Forf ob July. De eyes ob all mankine, an 
woman kine too, am ponyou, and wen you am seakin to be 
lected to sum ofis nex Octem dar will be no mo' chance for 
you to run in, den dey am to cheet ole Belzybub out ob wot 
railley am his own, wen you am boff boddy an soles as ded 
kokes in de pit, as you have ben ded beets in kongriss. De 
bess ting dat you can do, for yousefs an de community, am 
for you all to ernmygrait to Lasky, or some desart ilean, an dar 
skin each oder until dar amt enuff leb ob you to feed a sick 
crow. 

My brudrin, now lef me warn you not to folio de cuseid eg- 
sample ob dose fishful pilergers ob de public xeiieker. 
Leabe it to de wite trash to do dat, for de suner dey am fur- 
rowly and teetotaly demorulized de ezier will it for honess 
culor to assoom de ranes ob gubment ; and wen any ob you 
condesend to go to kongriss, recomember dat you am not 
sent dar to make yousef a tief, and steel for yousefs or for 
any ob de rings, but to make lors for dekentry dat will make 
de people honiss, and will not set an egsample to make us a 
nashun ob liars an robbers. 

May de lor' forgib all de sins ob culud men, and speshally 
for habin aded to elec deColfax-harlun-pattysun-morrul-but- 
ler tribe to seets in kongris ; an not only dem dat woted for 



PAT CONTRIVES TO SAVE HIS BACON. 81 

de big grab, but also dem dat divyed wid dem, for as i sed 
afo de receiber am fooly as bad as de tief, ony dey hadn't de 
curage to wote for de steel. 

And now, my brudrin, in oder to perwent youm pasture 
from gwine into bankrapsy, and bringin discredit pon de 
sinnergog, i wil cal pon Perfessur Cissero Cato Cool to put de 
hat in moshun, while de Africun Meddlesum Club enliben us 
wid sum ob dar selec slams and hymes. 



PAT CONTRIVES TO SAVE HIS BACON. 1 

ANONYMOUS. 

Terence O'Fleary, was working away in his little potatc- 
patch, when his close friend, Mike Casey, all rigged in his 
Sunday dress came up. " Arrali, Terry, my man, what 'ould 
you be a doing wid the praties, an' at the time that Phelim 
O'Loughlin's berrin', is agoin' on. Ma bochel, the praties won't 
run away sure." 

" No, no," says Terry, " I must dig out this ridge for the 
childer's breakfast, an' thin I'm goin' to confession to Father 
O'Higgins, who is holdin' a stachin at his own house there, 
jist beyont." 

"The stachin be bothered," sis Mike, says he, "sure the 
stachin 'ud wait till the mornin'." 

Mick went off to the berrin', and Terence, having finished 
'wid the praties, went over to Father O'Higgins, and 
was shown into the kitchen, to await his turn for confession. 
He had not been long standing there, before the kitchen fire, 
when his attention was attracted by a nice piece of bacon, 
hanging snugly in the chimney corner. Again and still 
again, Terry looked at it, and wished the " childer" had it 
at home to give the praties a relish. 

" Oh, murther alive, will I take it? Sure, the priest can 
well spare it, an' it would be a rale trate for Judy, an' the 
little gossoons at home, to say nothin' iv myself, who hasn't 
tasted the likes this many a day." Again Terry looked at it 
most wistfully, saying, " I won't take it. Why should I, 
seein' it's not mine at all, at all, but the praties ? an' I'd 






82 PAT CONTRIVES TO SAVE HIS BACON. 

have the sin ov it, sure ! I won't take it," replied he, " an* 
it's nothin' but the Ould Boy himself that's temptin' me ! 
But sure it's no harm to feel it, any away," said he, taking it 
into his hands and looking hard at it. " Och, it's a beauty; 
an' why wouldn't I carry it home to Judy an' the childer? 
An' sure it won't be a- sin afther I confesses it." 

So into his great coat pocket he thrust it ; and hardly had 
he done so, when the maid came in and told him that it was 
his turn for confession. 

" Murther, alive, I'm kilt an' ruin'd, horse an' foot, now, boy, 
V Terry ; what'll I do in this quandary, at all, at all ? By gan. 
nies ! I must thry an' make the best ov it, any how," and in 
he went. Kneeling to the priest he told his sins, and was 
about to receive absolution, when all at once he seemed to re- 
collect himself and cried out : 

" Oh, stop — stop, Father O'Higgins, dear ; for goodness' 
sake stop ! I have one great big sin to tell yit ; only, sir, I'm 
frightened to tell id, in the regard of never havin' done the 
like afore, sure niver ! " 

" Come," said Father O'Higgins, "you must tell it to me." 

"Why, thin, your reverince, I will tell id ; but, sir, I'm 
ashamed like." 

" Oh, never mind, tell it," said the priest. 

" Why, thin, your reverince, I went out one day to a gen- 
tleman's house upon a little bit of bisness, an' he beiii' in- 
gaged, I was showed into the kitchen to wait. Well, sir, 
there I saw a beautiful bit iv bacon hangin' in the chimbley 
corner. I looked at it, your reverince, an my teeth began to 
wather. I don't know how it was, sur, but I suppose the 
Divil timpted me, for I put it into my pocket ; but, if you 
plaize, sir, I'll give it to you," and he put his hand into his 
pocket. 

"Give it to me!" said the Father. " No — no — certainly 
not. Give it back to the owner." 

" Why, thin, your riverince, sur, I offered it to him, an' 
he wouldn't take id." 

"Oh, he wouldn't — wouldn't he?" said the priest, " then 
take it home, an' eat yourself with your family." 



HARD TIMES. 83 

"Thank your riverince kindly !" says Terence, " an' I'll do 
that same immadiately, plaize hiven, but first an' foremost, 
I'll have the absolution, if you plaize, sir." 

Terence got his absolution, and went on his way, rejoicing 
that he had been able to save both his soul and his bacon. 



THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 

G. P. MORRIS. 

Old Birch, who taught the village school, 
Wedded a maid of homespun habit ; 

He was as stubborn as a mule, 

While she was playful as a rabbit. 

Poor Kate had scarce become a wife 
Before her husband sought to make her 

The pink of country polished life, 
And prim and formal as a Quaker. 

One day the tutor went abroad, 

And simple Katy sadly missed him ; 

When he returned, behind her lord 
She slyly stole, and fondly kissed him. 

The husband's anger rose, and red 
And white his face alternate grew ; 

" Less freedom, ma'am !" Kate sighed and said, 
" Oh, dear, I didn't know 'twas you/" 



HARD TIMES. 

Bear Grumblers : — In 'cordance wid my promise, I will 
spoke to jou dis ebenin' on de perwailin' epidemic ob de 
day. You will find my tex' on de tongs ob eberybody in de 
community from de millionmare down to de licensed vender 
man. It am written in unmistakable characters and deep 
lines on de phiz's ob de poor, and in the anxious faces ob de 
rich. It am none as Hard Times. 



84 HARD TIMES. 

"It's hard times," tinks de merchant's lady, as she alights 
from her carriage, decked in a two thousand dollar set ob 
diamonds, thousand dollar set ob furs, hundred dollar dress, 
and delicate opera cloak. It 's hard times — husband couldn't 
afford no greater display, times am so berry hard. 

"It's hard times.'' says the buckish clerk in the shanghie 
coat, as he orders oysters and champagne — " Two dozen 
oysters cooked in warious ways, and only one half-pint bot- 
tle ob hidesick ; — times is hard, and I can't afford luxuries." 

"It's hard times," says de feller as he pours down Old 
Hennessy at 25 cents de nip. " De Lord only knows what 
we am coming to." 

-'It's hard times" says de fop to de tailor, " and you must 
wait." " Hadn't you better wer out your ole close t* says de 
tailor, " till your finances improbe a little, and de times git 
softer?" "Can't afford it," says the fop, "must hab de 
shanghie. I can't afford to lose my position, and look as doe 
I worked for a libin'. " 

" Ifs hard times," saysde capitalist, as he buttons up his 
coat. " I guess I Tl lock up what gold and silver I hab in a 
wait, and luff no man hab it, kase all de noosepapers says 
it's hard times and wus a comin'. I Tl lock up my money, 
kase dere am no noein who to trust." 

" It's hard times," says de bank fellers, who hab bin libin' 
too fast, "and I must eder retrench, or Skiltfr. I can't re- 
trench and go in good society afterwards, but I can default, 
and in two seasons all am forgotten. I'll Skiler, kase it pays 
best." 

" We must take advantage ob de times," says de business 
man, "and cut down de wages ob de workman — now is de 
time, when noosepapers, preachermen, lawyers, and every- 
body am crying hard times." 

So down goes de wages, and down comes de tears ob de 
workman's children for bread at de same time — so you see 
the poor man and his family do all de sufferin' and de rich 
all de jawin'. Dere am no mistake, de times am so hard 
you can bite it. 



WHAT BECAME OF A LIE. 85 

WHAT BECAME OF A LIE. 

MRS. M. A. KIDDER. 

First, somebody told it, 

Then the room wouldn't hold it, 

So the busy tongue rolled it 

Till they got it outside ; 
When the crowd came across it, 
It never once lost it, 
But tossed it, and tossed it, 

Till it grew long and wide. 

From a very small lie, sir, 
It grew deep and high, sir, 
Till it reached to the sky, sir, 

And frightened the moon ; 
For she hid her sweet face, sir, 
In a veil of cloud-lace, sir, 
At the dreadful disgrace, sir, 

That happened at noon. 

This lie brought forth others, 
Dark sisters and brothers, 
And fathers and mothers — 

A terrible crew ; 
And while headlong they hurried, 
The people they flurried, 
And troubled, and worried, 

As lies always do. 

And so, evil-boded, 

This monstrous lie goaded, 

Till at last it exploded, 

In smoke and in shame ; 
While from mud and from mire, 
The pieces flew higher, 
And hit the sad liar, 

And killed his good name ! 






86 LODGE NIGHT. 

"JUST HIS LUCK." 

" I'M hungry and ragged and half -sick and dead-broke," 
muttered a tramp yesterday, as he sat down for a sun-bath 
on the wharf at the foot of Griswold street; "but it's just 
my lack. Last fall I got in to Detroit just two hours too 
late to sell my vote. Nobody to blame. Found a big wallet 
on the street in December., and four police came up before I 
could hide it. Luck again. Got knocked down by a street- 
car, but there was no opening for a suit for damages, because 
I was drunk. Just the way. Last fall nails were way down. 
I knew there'd be a rise, but I didn't buy and hold for the 
advance. Lost ten thousand dollars out and out. Alius that 
way with me. Glass went up twenty-five per cent., but I 
hadn't a pane on hand, excepting the pain in my back. 
Never knew it to [ail. Now lumber's gone up, and I don't 
even own a fence- picket to realize on. Just me again. Fell 
into the river t'other day, but instead of pulling me out and 
giving me a hot whiskey they pulled me out and told me to 
leave town or I'd get the bounce. That's me again. Now 
I've got settled down here for a bit of a rest and a snooze, 
but I'll be routed out in less than fifteen minutes, and I 
know it. It'll be just, my behanged luck !" 

He settled down, slid his hat over his face, and was just 
beginning to feel sleepy when a hundred pounds of coal 
rattled down on him. 

' ' I knew it — I knew it ?" shouted the tramp as he sprang 
up and rubbed the dust off his head — ' ' I said so all the time, 
and I just wish the durned old hogshead had come down 
along with the coal and jammed me through the wharf." 



LODGE NIGHT. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Hearing a confused noise in front of my house the other 
night, writes a correspondent, I threw up the window to as- 
certain the cause. I observed a dark object clinging to the 
lamp-post that stands sentinel in front of my door ; and lis- 
tening attentively, I overheard the following soliloquy : 



LODGE NIGHT. 87 

" Mariar's waitin' up for me ! I see the light in her win'er. 
What the deu-deuce does she act so fool-(hic) foolish for on 
lodge-lodge-nights? 'S'well enough to stay up on o'rrer nights 
— but's all blame nonsense, ye know, to wait for a fell'r on 
lodge (hie) nights. She knows 's'well as I do, basin' 'sgot to 
be 'tended to — committee's got to report, an' var'us o'rrer lit- 
tle matters — she ought'er 'ave more sense. I-I'll catch f-f- 
fits, tho', I know I shall. Said she had the head(-hic) head- 
ache when I left 'er — told me not to stay out loger'n I could 
'elp. Well, I didn't! how could I help it? Besides, I'll 
have the headache worse'n she will'n the mor-nin'. So 
b-blamed stupid in her to. get the headache when she 
knew I'd biz-bizness to 'tend to. Ah ! these women, these 
women, they'll never (hie) learn anythin', never : 

" So let the world .wag as wide as it will, 
I'll be gay and (hie) happy still." 

" Ha, ha, ha ! (hie). Wonder what's become of Bulgar ! 
Left 'im settin' on a curbstone. Rain'n' like blazes, and the 
war'rer up to his middle. He thought he was at Niag-(hic) 
Niagara Falls. Says'e, says'e ' Spicer' my boy, ain't this 
glor'us ? Don't you hear the ra-rapids f I was strik'n out for 
home as ra- (hie) rapidly as I could. 'Tis pity for Bulger, 
'cause I don't think he can swim ; and he hates — ha, ha, ha 1 
(hie) — hates war'rer like p-poison. Wish I wa's 'ome and in 
bed. B-r-r-u-a-h ! I'm all of a shiver 1 Clo's all wet outside, 
and I'm dry as thund'r inside. Think I'll tell Mariar I ju- 
jumped overboard to save a feller-screecher from (hie) drown- 
ing. Then she — she'd want to know what I did with the fell- 
(hic) feller-screecher. So that won't do. She's got a pretty 
good swallow, but — egad ! she — can't swallow — ha, ha, ha ! 
(hie) — no drowned man, you know. Tha-that's a leetle too 
much ! She's taken some awful heavy doses of lie from 
me, but I'm afraid the drown'd chap would choke her." 

At this juncture a guardian of the public peace approached 
and asked the votary of Bacchus what he was doing there at 
that time of night, and why he did not go home. 

" What'm I doin' here ? Why, I'm hold'ui' on like grim 
death — that's what I'm doin'. Ilowsever, ole fell'r, I'm gl- 






88 CHICKENS. 

(hie) a-ad to see ye. Fact is, I've been out'n the rain, and 
I've got a leetle so-soaked, d'ye see ? Rain war'rer allers did 
make consirable 'p-pression on me. Say, yon ! caa ye t-tell 
me why I'm like a pick -(hie) picket-guard ? But I know you 
can't ; Vno use askin' you p'iice fell'rs anything. But's good 
n-notwithstan'n — he, he, he 3 (hie) — for me. I — I'll tell ye 
why I'm like a blackguar' — I mean a p-picket-guard. Because 
I c-can't leave my p-post until I'm re-(hic) relieved! P'iice 
fell'r, d'ye see that shutter over the way, the one wi' the 
green Venetian houses in front, three doors to go up to the 
step? That's my (hie) house, and therein dwells my sa-sainted 
Mariar. Did you ever belong to a spout-shop? But I s'pose 
not. As the charming P-Portia says : 

«« ' That light we see is burning in my hall ; 

How far that little beam throws his c-candles ! 
So shines a good (hie) deed in a naughty world.* 

" Th-then pity the sorrows of a poor young man, whose 
tangled legs have b-b-brought him to this spot. Oh, relieve 
and take him home at once, and heaven will ble- bless your 
store — when you get (hie) one." 

The policeman kindly assisted him to his house and rang 
the bell. The door partially opened. I got a transient 
glimpse of a night-capped head, as our hero was hurriedly 
drawn in by unseen hands ; and a shrill voice, that pierced 
the midnight air, was heard to say ; '* So ! you're tight 
again, you brute !" The door was rudely slammed in the un- 
offending policeman's face, while I crept shivering to bed, 
wondering at the probable fate of " Bulger." 



CHICKENS. 

ROSE TERRY COOKE. 

" I DIDN'T !" says Chip. " You did !" says Peep. 
" How do you know ? you were fast asleep." 
" I was under mammy's wing, 
Scratching my legs like anything, 
When all of a sudden I turned around, 



CHICKENS. 89 

For close behind me I heard a sound — 

*' A little tip and a little tap." 

" Fiddle-de-dee I You 'd had a nap, 

And when you were only half awake 

Heard an icicle somewhere break." 

" What 's an icicle ! I don't know ; 

Rooster tells about ice and snow — 

Something that isn't as good as meal, 

That drops down on you and makes you squeal." 

" Well! swallow rooster's tales, I beg, 

And think you didn't come out of an egg ! 

I tell you I heard the old shell break, 

And the first small noise you ever could make ; 

And mammy croodled and puffed her breast, 

And pushed us further out of the nest, 

Just to make room enough for you ; 

And there 's your shell — I say it 's true 1" 

Chip looked over his shoulder then, 

And there it lay by the old gray hen — 

Half an egg-shell, chipped and brown, 

And he was a ball of yellow down, 

Clean and chipper, and smart and spry, 

With the pertest bill and the blackest eye, 

" H'm !" said he, with a little perk, 

" That is a wonderful piece of work ! 

Peep, you silly, don't you see 

That shell isn't nearly as big as me t 

Whatever you say, miss, I declare 

I never, never could get in there !" 

" You did 1" says Peep. " I didn't!" says Chip; 

With that he gave her. a horrid nip, 

And Peep began to dance and peck, 

And Chip stuck out his wings and neck. 

They pranced and struck and capered about, 

Their toes turned in and their wings spread out, 

As angry as two small chicks could be, 

Till Mother Dorking turned to see. 

She cackled and clucked, and called in vain — 

At it they went with might and main — 



90 OLD SI PILOTS A 'POSSUM HUNT. 

Till at, last the old hen used her beak, 

And Peep and Chip with many a squeak 

Staggered off on either side 

With a very funny skip and stride. 

" What dreadful nonsense !" said Mother Hen, 

When she heard the story told again ; 

"You 're bad as the two-legs that don't have wings, 

Nor feathers nor combs — the wretched things ! 

That 's the way they fight and talk 

For what isn't worth a mullein stalk. 

What does it matter, I 'd like to know, 

Where you came from, or where you go? 

Keep your temper and earn your food ; 

I can't scratch worms for a fighting brood. 

I won't have quarrels — I will have peace ; 

I hatched out chickens, so don't be geese ! 

Chip scratched his ear with his yellow claw, 

The meekest chicken that ever you saw ; 

And Peep in her feathers curled one leg, 

And said to herself : " But he was an egg !" 



OLD SI PILOTS A 'POSSUM HUNT. 

" Golly ! hit wus cold 'nuff last night ter freeze up a bias* 
furniss ! " said Amos one morning. 

" Yes, but I like ter 'laff myself inter a ragin' feber, for de 
bo'n trufe ! " said old Si. 

"How was dat?" 

"Well, some ob dese town gen'lmen, dey come arter me 
to go wid dem ter hunt 'possum an' I went." 

' ; Dey moughter 'skused me ! " put in Amos. 

"Nebber mine, nigger, mebbe you kin be satisfied wid er 
or'nary cirkus, but ef yer want ter see de gran' hipper- 
drumedary an' moril caravangerie, you'se got ter go 'possum 
huntin' wid dat quad dat I wus in las' night ! " 

"What did dey do?" 

" Dey went out in de woods an' prowled 'round dar whar 



OLD SI PILOTS A 'POSSUM HUNT. 91 

de 'possums gin'rully getliers and dey bunted ! Dey 'skiver- 
ed mo' 'possum tracks and seed mo' 'possum ha'r on de bark 
ob trees dan's bin in Georgy sence Stone Mountain was 
planted to mark de norf vves' corner ob de big survay ! " 

" Did dey ketch any, tho' ? " 

" Hoi' on ! De fust one dat dey treed wuz one dat dey 
fouu' creepin' 'long de side ob de fence. When dey sicked de 
dog on and hit cl'ared de fence at de fust bound, dey lit out 
arter hit an' purty soon dey had hit up a tree. When de 
'possum got up ter de fork hit turn'd 'round an' say : ' Sphit? 
me-ow-ow ! ' Good Master, I jess tho't that I would bus' 
right dar, fer dem boys had done gone an' treed de bigges 
old cat dat ebber you see in yo' bo'n days ! " 

" Dey moughter kno'd dat warn't no 'possum when hit riz 
ober dat fence, ez your prescribe ! " said Amos. 

"But shot'ly dey struck anudder trail an' when de dog — 
one ob dese heah patent breed fices — bark'd, one ob de boys 
say: 'By jings, fellers, we's got de reprehensible trail 
wretch in de foalidge, at las' ! an' dey all helt a wah dance 
onder de tree, but when dey flash'd de bull's eye onter de 
right limb, a stray rooster shuck hissef an' say : ' Tuck- 
awk-awk-awk.' Den yer cood a heerd dem boys cussin' ober 
in de nex' county." 

" Didn't dey ketch no 'possum at all, Ce whole night ? " 

" When I gets ter de 'possums I'll speak 'bout dem, but I 
wuz gwine on ter say dat dey fizzled out on de fals' 'larms ob 
dat patent pup tell dey run agin a pole-cat — den dey all hol- 
lered 'possum, an' hit wuz wuss dan holdin' a team of young 
mules ober a ho'net's nes' to keep dem boys fum bouncin' 
onter dot ole time centennill critter. But de dog went in — 
an' come out — but he war'nt shook hands wid for his bravery, 
you bet. After dat skirmish dem boys opened de throttils of 
dere canteens wide an' faum'd de reserves inter a returnin' 
board, respired wid de sperit of seventy-six ! " 

" An' no 'possum at las' ! " 

" Nary flicker ob a tail, but dar wuz laffin' 'nuff on my side 
to mek a man fatter dan fo'ty 'possums briled ! " 









92 AGRICULTURAL ADRESS. 

AGRICULTURAL ADDRESS. 

WASHINGTON WHITEHORN. 

LADIES and gentlemen, I congratulate you upon your good 
judgment in selecting ine to deliver the address before this 
honorable society. 

No one has taken agriculture more to heart or made it so 
much of a study as I have. I have spent my whole life in 
reading agricultural reports, and have driven out into the 
country two or three times. 

When I look round me and see the evidences of a farmer's 
life I say God bless him ! I tell you I would rather borrow 
a hundred dollars of a good old honest farmer than any other 
men. I would rather eat at a farmer's table than eat at my 
own. 

What better sign of agricultural thrift can be found than 
beautiful quilts present, each one made of several thousand 
pieces ? I tell you they are the very finest products that can 
be cultivated on a farm. When a good old farmer wraps 
one of those around him and lies down to pleasant dreams, 
the mortgages on his farm and the taxes vanish into thin 
air. 

I am overjoyed to look around and see so many good-look- 
ing girls. The crop is splendid. It shows they were raised 
on good farms, and I think they deserve the premium. If I 
wasn't a married man I would be agricultural enough to try 
and cultivate a liking for some of them. 

I am pleased to see that every year farming becomes more 
advanced as a profession. Those wax flowers and crotcheted 
ferns show to the whole world just how it is improving, and 
those sewing-machines are so finely adjusted that they will 
sow anything from a calico dress to a field of oats. When 
I was a boyish child we did our sowing by hand, and I may 
add that some boys were raised by hand with a switch 
in it. 

Perhaps there is nothing that shows the progress of the 
agricultural interests better than the horse-races. When I 
looked at those feats of speed I wanted to be a farmer, and 
became so enthusiastic over it that I invested ten dollars on 






AGRICULTURAL ADDRESS. 93 

the white horse for a purely agricultural purpose, but I had 
forgotten to state I had bet on the horse that came in hist, 
and the fellow went away with my money and his finger 
pulling down his left eye. Nevertheless, agriculture as ex- 
hibited in a horse-race is a good thing. 

The occupation of a farmer in my mind is one of the most 
pleasant of recreations. What is more delightful than to see 
the patient ox hitched up to the sickle going through a field 
reaping potatoes from the potato-stalks V What is more 
cheerful than to lie in bed and know that your corn is com- 
ing up whether you are there or not, or to sit back and drink 
cider and be aware that every stalk of wheat is growing with- 
out your being compelled to be out there and put a head on 
it, while the corn puts its ears out and listens for the break- 
fast-bell ? 

In the occupation of an honest farmer I can imagine noth- 
ing more exhilaratiug and ennobling than eating ham and 
egg breakfasts. 

If I were a farmer how delightful would it be to roll up 
my sleeves and go forth while the sun is warm and effulgent 
and eat apples, or hitch up my team early to a spanker and 
go down the road like a breeze with another breeze after it. 

Farmers are independent ; indeed, they are the most inde- 
pendent set of people I know of. 

And when fair time comes around with what pride does 
the farmer gather together the produce of his farm for ex- 
hibition to the astonished world ! He brings in his premium 
thistles, which show how much pains have been taken to 
cultivate them ; and his champion mince-pies, which only^ 
grow to perfection on a good farm: and his three-legged | 
chickens ; and his horned miiley cows ; and his persimmons ; 
and crab-cider ; and his paw-paws ; and ginseng ; and ripe, 
luscious cucumbers ; and his cane fishpoles with corn blades 
stuck on them ; and smear-case ; and crooked gourds ; and 
his girls and boys and the old folks ! Ah, there is nothing 
half like it. 

If I was the premier of this society you would all go home 
with the first premium. I thank you all for your kind atten- 



94 THE KISS IN SCHOOL. 

tion. And if there is any good old farmer present who is 
just going to lunch and will give me a pressing invitation to 
join in I will show him how much I like agricultural vic- 
tuals. 



THE KISS IN SCHOOL. 

PALMER. 

A District School not far away, 

'Mid Berkshire hills, one winter's day, 

Was humming with its wonted noise 

Of three-score mingled girls and boys ; 

Some few upon their tasks intent, 

But more on future mischief bent 

The while the master's downward look 

Was fastened on a copy-book, 

When suddenly, behind his back, 

Rose sharp and clear a rousing smack ! 

As 'twere a battery of bliss, 

Let off in one tremendous kiss. 

" What's that ? " the startled master cries, 

" That, thir," a little imp replies, 

" Wath William Willith, if you pleathe ; 

I saw him kith Thuthannah Peathe ! " 

With frown to make a statue thrill, 

The Master thundered, "Hither, Will 1" 

Like wretch o'er taken in his track, 

With stolen chattels on his back, 

Will hung his head in fear and shame, 

And to that awful presence came ; 

A great, green, bashful simpleton, 

The butt of all good-natured fun. 

With smile suppressed, and birch upraised, 

The threatener faltered : "I'm amazed 

That you, my biggest pupil, should 

Be guilty of an act so rude ! 

Before the whole set school to boot, — 

What evil genius put you to 't ? " 



JOSH BILLINGS ON GONGS. 95 

" 'Twas she, herself, sir," sobbed the lad, 

" I didn't mean to be so bad ; 

But when Susannah shook her curls, 

And whispered I was 'fraid of girls, 

And dursn't kiss a baby's doll, 

I couldn't stand it, sir, at all ! 

But up and kissed her on the spot. 

I know — boo-hoo— I ought to not, 

But, somehow, from her looks, — boo-hoo, — 

I thought she kind o' wished me to." 



JOSH BILLINGS ON GONGS. 

Josh Billings relateth his first experience with the gong 
thusly : 

I never can erradicate holi from mi memory the sound ov 
the first gong I ever herd. I was settin' on the front steps ov 
a tavern in the sitty of Buffalo, pensively smokin. The sun 
was goin' to bed, and the hevins for an hour was blushin' 
at the performance. The Ery knal, with its golden waters, 
was on its way to Albany, and I was perusin' the live botes 
a floatin by, and thinkin' of Italy (where I used to live), and 
her gondolers and gall us wimmen. My entire sole wuz, as 
it were, in a swet. I wanted to klime, I felt grate, I actu- 
ally grew. 

There are things in this life tu big tu be trifled with ; there 
are times when a man breaks luse f rom hisself , when he sees 
sperrets, when he can almost tuch the mune, and feel as 
tho' he kud fill both hands with the stars uv hevin, and 
almost sware he was a bank president. That's what ailed 
me. 

But the korse ov true luv never did run smooth. (This is 
Shakespeare's opinion, too). Just as I was duin my best — 
dummer, dummer, pat bang, beller, crash, roar, ram, dum- 
mer, dummer, whang, rip, rare, rally, dummer, dummer, 
dum — with a tremenjus jump I struck the center ov the side- 
walk, with another I cleared the gutter, and with another I 



96 HIGHER. 

stood in the middle ov the street, snortin* like an Indian pony 
at a band of music. 

I gazed in wild despair at the tavern stand, mi hart swell- 
ing up as big as a outdoor oven, my teeth was as luce as a string 
ov bedes, I thot all the crockery in the tavern had fell down, 
I thot of fenomenons, I thot of Gabrel and his horn ; I was 
jest on the pint of thinkin ov something else when the land- 
lord kum out on the f runt stupe ov the tavern, holdin' by a 
string the bottom ov a old brass kettle. He kauled me gently 
with his hand. I went slola and slola up to him he kammed 
my fears, he said it was a gong; I saw the kussed thing ; he 
said supper was ready, and axed me if I wud have black or 
green tee, and I sed I wud. 



HIGHER. 

The shadows of night were a comin' down swift, 
And the dazzlin' snow lay drift on drift, 
As through a village a youth did go, 
A carryin' a nag with this motto, — 
"Higher!" 

O'er a forehead high curled copious hair, 
His nose a Roman, complexion fair, 
O'er an eagle eye an auburn lash ; 
And he never stopped shoutin' through his mustache 
" Higher !" 

He saw through the windows, as he kept gettin' upper 
A number of families settin' at supper ; 
But he eyed the slippery rocks very keen, 
And fled as he cried, and cried while a fleein', — 
"Higher!" 

" Take care, you there !" said an old woman ; " stop ! 
It 's bio win' gales up there on top; 
You'll tumble off on t'other side." 
But the hurryin' stranger loud replied. — 
" Higher !" 



THE QUIET MR. SMITH. 97 

** O, don't go up such a shocking night ! 
Come sleep on my lap," said a maidt n bright. 
On his Roman nose a tear-drop come ; 
But still he remarked, as he upward clomb, — 
" Higher !" 

" Look out for the branch of that sycamore tree, 
Dodge rollin' stones, if any you see." 
Sayin' which, the farmer went home to bed, 
And the singular voice replied overhead, — 
" Higher l" 

About a quarter past six the next afternoon, 
A man accidentally goin' up soon 
Heard spoken above him, as often as twice, 
The very same word in a very weak voice, — 
•' Higher \" 

And not far, I believe, from a quarter of seven 
(He was slow gettin* up, the road bein' uneven), 
Found the stranger dead in the drifted snow, 
Still clutchin' the Sag with this motto, — 
" Higher P 

Yes ! lifeless, defunct, without any doubt, 
The lamp of his being decidedly out, 
On the dreary hill-side the youth was a layin', 
And there was no more use for him to be sayin', — 
" Higher r 



THE QUIET MR. SMITH. 

FANNY FERN. 

" What a quiet man your husband is, Mrs. Smith f 
' ' Quiet ! a snail is an ' express train ' to him ! If the top of 
this house should blow off, he 'd just sit still and spread his 
umbrella ! He 's a regular pussy-cat, Comes into the front 



98 TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE. 

door as though the entry was paved with eggs, and sits 
down in his chair as if there was a nest of kittens under the 
cushion. He'll be the death of me yet. I read him all the 
horrid accidents, dreadful collisions, murders, and explo- 
sions, and he takes it just as easy as if I was saying the ten 
commandments. 

"He is never astonished, or startled, or delighted. If a 
cannon-ball should come through that window, he wouldn't 
move an eyelash. If I should make the voyage of the world, 
and return some fine day, he 'd take off his spectacles, put 
them in the case, fold up the newspaper, and settle his dickey, 
before he 'd be ready to say, ' Good morning, Mrs. Smith.' 
If he 'd been born of a poppy, he couldn't be more sopo- 
rific. 

"I wonder if all the Smiths are like him. When Adam 
got tired of naming his numerous descendants, he said, 
' Let all the rest be called Smith !' Well, I don't care for 
that, but he ought to have known better than to call my hus- 
band Abel Smith. Do you suppose, if I were a man, I would 
let a woman support me ? Where do you think Abel's coats and 
«ravats and canes and cigars come from ? Out of my brains! 
Quiet ! — It 's perfectly refreshing to me to hear of a comet, 
or see a locomotive, or look at a streak of chain lightning ! 
I tell you he is the expressed essence of chloroform. 



TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE. 

A MISERABLE WRETCH. 

Roll on, thou ball, roll on ! 

Through pathless realms of space 

Roll on ! 

What though I'm in a sorry case ? 

What though I cannot meet my bills ? 

What though I suffer tooth-ache's ills? 

What though I swallow countless pills ? 

Never you mind ! 

Roll on ! 



EXCLAMATORY. 99 

Roll on, thou ball, roll on ! 
Through seas of inky air 
Roll on ! 
It's true I've got no shirts to wear ; 
It's true my butcher's bill is due ; 
It's true my prospects all look blue, — 
But don't let that unsettle you ! 
Never you mind ! 
Roll on ! 

[It rolls on. 



EXCLAMATORY. 

At church I sat within her pew, — 
OPew ! 

But there I heard 

No pious word, — 
I saw alone her eyes of blue ! 

I saw her bow her head so gracious, — 
O Gracious ! 

The choir sang, 

The organ rang, — 
And seemed to fill the building spacious. 

I could not hear the gospel law, — 
O Law ! 

My future bride 

Was by my side, — 
I found all else a mighty bore f 

And so when pealed the organ's thunder,— 
O Thunder ! 

I fixed my eyes, 

In mute surprise, 
On her whose beauty was a wonder. 

To me that maiden was most dear, — 
O Dear ! 



100 PRAISE OF LITTLE WOMEN. 

And she was mine. — 
Joy too divine 
For human words to picture here. 

Her love seemed like a prayer to bless me, 
O Bless me ! 

Before she came 

My life was tame, — 
My rarest joys could but oppress me. 

The service done, we sought the shore, — 
O shore ! 

And there we walked, 

And sadly talked, — 
More sadly than e'er before. 

I thought she was the type of goodness, — 
O Goodness ! 

But on that day 

I heard her say 
Plain words whose very tone was rudeness, 

We strolled beyond the tide-mill's dam,- 
O Dam ! 

She jilted me 

And now I see 
That woman's love is all a sham J 



PRAISE OP LITTLE WOMEN. 

JTJAN KUIZ DE HTTA. 

To praise the little women Love besought me in my musing, 

To tell their noble qualities, is quite beyond refusing ; 

So I'll praise the little women, and you'll find the thing 
amusing, 

They are, I know, as cold as snow, whilst flames around dif- 
fusing. 



PRAISE OP LITTLE WOMEN. 101 

In a little precious stone what splendor meets the eyes ! 
In a little lump of sugar how much of sweetness lies ! 
So in a little woman love grows and multiplies : 
You recollect the proverb says, — " A word unto the wise." 

A peppercorn is very small, but seasons every dinner, 

More than all other condiments, although 'tis sprinkled 

thinner. 
Just so a little woman is, if Love will let you win her, — 
There's not a joy in all the world you will not find within 

her. 

And as within the little rose you find the richest dyes, 
And in a little grain of gold much price and value lies ; 
As from a little balsam much odor doth arise, 
So in a little woman there's a taste of Paradise. 

Even as the little ruby its secret worth betrays, 
Color, and price, and virtue, in the clearness of its rays, — 
Just so a little woman much excellence displays, 
Beauty, and grace, and love, and fidelity always. 

The skylark and the nightingale, though small and light of 

wing, 
Yet warble sweeter in the grove than all the birds that sing; 
And so a little woman, though a very little thing, 
Is sweeter far than sugar, and flowers that bloom in Spring. 

There's naught can be compared to her throughout the wide 

creation. 
She is a Paradise on earth, — our greatest consolation ; 
So cheerful, gay, and happy, so free from all vexation, 
In fine, she's better in the proof than in anticipation. 

If as her size increases are woman's charms decreased, 
Then surely it is good to be from all the great released. 
Now, of two evils, choose the less, said a wise man of the 

East: 
By consequence, of womankind be sure to choose the least. 



102 SPEECH-MACING. 

SPEECH-MAKING. 

How truly fortunate the age and country in which we live, 
when and where every event is set forth and duly celebra- 
ted in a magnificent speech ! These ready speech-makers 
seem determined to effect what Milton implored of his 
muse : — 

" What is low, raise and support." 

We are told by the newspapers, that at a " Mowing-match," 
lately got up in New Hampshire, the " Hon. Mr. Such — a — 
;one delivered an elegant and appropriate address." Now, 
this is nothing to the style in which we do things in the Old 
Bay State. We could relate a score of instances, if we pleased, 
where as fine speeches as ever were blown were made on far 
less occasions than the one above mentioned. I will content 
myself with a single instance. 

In a village on one side or other of the Connecticut River 
there is a pound, for the imprisonment of such unruly four- 
footed animals as render themselves obnoxious to the civil 
authority. This same pound, having lost off one of the hinges 
of the gate, it became a matter of prudence to replace it by 
a new one. 

The making and putting on of a single hinge on a gate of no 
great magnitude, is not a thing necessarily requiring a great 
deal of noise saving and excepting what is made by the ham- 
mer and anvil. But this only shows more fully the vast per- 
fection to which the sublime art of speech- making is already 
brought in this happy land. 

On this occasion, the Hon. Spouter Puffer was unanimously 
chosen to deliver the address. And the able and perfect 
manner in which he did the thing shows, clearer than noon- 
day, the wisdom of the choice. The carpenter had taken 
the hinge in his hand, and was about nailing it fast to the 
gate, when the honorable gentleman arose, and after alluding 
to the importance of the occasion, his utter inability to do 
anything like justice to it, and craving the indulgence of the 
audience, he thus proceeded : 

"When I look about me, and behold this vast empire, extend- 
ing from sea to sea, and from ocean to ocean ; when I con- 



SEVEN STAGES OF DRUNKENNESS. 103 

template the growing condition of this State ; when I reflect 
on the magnitude of this country ; when I consider the inef- 
fable importance of this 'ere town, with its dense and en- 
lightened population ; and, especially, when I turn my eyes 
to the wide circumference of the Pound before us, I am lost 
in admiration of the magnitude of our destinies. 

"Europe is no more to us than a filbert-shell to a meet- 
ing house. If any one doubts that we have arrived at the 
pinnacle of arts, let him come forward to-day, and view the 
perfection of this hinge, pounded as it has been, on the anvil 
of Independence, and beaten into shape by the hammer of 
Wisdom. 

"On this hinge turns the fate of empires ; on this hinge 
depends the starvation of horses, and bringing into subjec- 
tion the flesh of unruly beef. Here they may chew the bitter 
cud of nonentity ; here they may learn to prize the inestima- 
ble privilege of being impounded in a land of liberty ; 
here—" 

But we will not pursue the subject any further, as it is 
utterly impossible to do anything like justice to the eloquence 
of the honorable gentleman, without quoting the whole 
speech, which, as it would occupy nine closely -printed col- 
umns, and we understand it is to be laid before the public in a 
pamphlet form, we dismiss for the present, just observing, 
that the honorable gentleman surpassed all his former exam- 
ples of eloquence ; and such was the attention and stillness 
of the audience, composed of at least twenty persons, that the 
walls of the pound might have fallen down, "Slam bang !" 
without once being heard. 



SEVEN STAGES OP DRUNKENNESS. 

All the world's a Bar, 

And all the men and women merely drinkers : 

They have their hiccups and their staggerings ; 

And one man in a day drinks many glasses, 

His acts being seven stages. At first the gentleman, 



104 THE GOAT. 

Steady and steadfast in Lis good resolves ; 

And then the wine and bitters, appetizer, 

And pining, yearning look, leaving like a snail 

The comfortable bar. And then the arguments, 

Trying like Hercules with a wrathful frontage 

To refuse once more gin cocktail. Then the mystified, 

Full of strange thoughts, unheeding good advice, 

Careless of honor, sodden, thick and gutt'ral, 

Seeking the troubled repetition 

Even in the bottle's mouth ; and then quite jovial, 

In fair good humor while the world swims round, 

With eyeballs misty, while his friends him cut, 

Full of nice oaths and awful bickerings : 

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 

Into stupid, slipping drunken man 

With " blossoms" on his nose and bleary-eyed, 

His shrunken face unshaved, from side to side 

He rolls along ; and his unmanly voice 

Huskier than ever, fails and flies, 

And leaves him — staggering round. Last scene of all, 

That ends this true and painful history, 

Is stupid childishness, and then oblivion — 

Sans watch, sans chain, sans coin, sans everything. 



THE GOAT. 

The goat is a native of the vacant lots about the city, and 
there are lots of them. 

The goat is omnivorous. He will goat anything that 
he sees, and will seize anything that he may goat. 

His principal food, however, is play bill. He is very fond 
of letters. 

Let us honor him for his love of bill letters. 

The gentleman goat is called Billy, but he is a Billy that no 
policeman can handle. 

The lady goats are called Nanny. This is their ewe-Nanny- 
mous name. 



NOT SO EASY. 105 

The young goat is called a kid. Kids are on hand the year 
round. 

The goat is generous to a fault. He presents a couple of 
horns to everybody he sees. 

In the matter of mere cash, the Cashmere goat is the most 
famous. 

Goats are fond of the outskirts of large cities ; also hoop 
skirts. 

The goat wears a beard. It is called a goatee, though not 
confined to the he goat. 

The goat is noted for his bunting, but he never flags. 

The goat is one of the signs of the zodiac, signifying that 
he has a propensity to knock things sky-high. 

He never gets high himself. That is to say, he never gets 
over the ba-a-a. 

Shakspeare understood the spontaneity of the goat when 
he said, " Stand not upon the order of your going, but goat 
once." 

The goat is a wide-awake animal. He is never caught 
napping, notwithstanding the many cases of kid-napping you 
may have read about. 

For many years the goat was the only butter known. 

Goats love to get on a high rock and sun themselves. 
Give them a chance and they will always seek a sunny 
climb. 

The god Pan was a sort of half -goat. All goats do not pan 
out as well as he did. 

Baa a ! 



NOT SO EASY. 

ANON. 
Now you may think it very nice, 

And very easy too, 
For a little boy to stand up here, 

With little else to do, 
But make his bow, and say a piece — 

To speak up loud and plain, 



106 CORNS. 

Then make another bow to close, 
And take his seat again. 

But I can tell you, one and all, 

Whichever way you view it, 
To face this crowd of gentle folks, 

It takes some Pluck to do it. 
The saying is as TRUE as OLD, 

" Who gets a name must buy it," 
If you don't credit what I say, 

Just walk up here and try it. 



CORNS. 

AXON. 

Corns are of two kinds— vegetable and animal. Vegetable 
corn grows in rows ; animal corn grows on toeses. There is 
the unicorn, Capricorn, corn dodger, field corn, and the corn 
that you feel the most. It is said, we believe, that gophers 
like corn ; but persons having corns do not like to " go fur '' 
if they can help it. Corns have kernels, and some colonels 
have corns. Vegetable corn grows on ears, but animal corns 
grow on the feet. Folks that have corns sometimes send 
for a doctor, and if the doctor is corned, it would be better if 
they had not sent for him. The doctor says corns are pro- 
duced by tight boots and shoes, which is probably the reason 
why when a man is tight they say he is corned. If a farmer 
manages well, he gets a good deal of corn on a acre, but we 
know of a farmer that has one corn that makes the biggest 
acher on his farm. Another kind of - corn is the dodger. 
The way it is made is very simple, and it is as follows — that 
is if you want to know : You go along the street and meet a 
man that you know has a corn, and rough character, then 
you step on the toe that has the corn on it, and see if you 
don't have occasion to dodge. In that way you find out what 
a corn dodger is. 



THE CLOSE-HARD MAN. 107 

A TRAIN OF CIRCUMSTANCES. 

PITZ GREEN. 

By the side of a murmuring stream, 

An elderly gentleman sat ; 
On the top of his head was his wig, 

And a-top of his wig was his hat. 



As this elderly gentleman sat ; 
And it tore from his head in a trice, 
And plunged in the river his hat. 

The old gentleman then took his cane, 
Which lay by his side as he sat ; 

And he dropped in the river his wig, 
In attempting to get out his hat. 

His breast it grew cold with despair, 
And in his eye madness full sat ; 

So he flung in the river his cane, 
To swim with his wig and his hat. 

His head being thicker than common, 
Overbalanced the rest of his fat; 

So in fell this son of a woman, 
To follow his wig\ cane and hat ! 



THE CLOSE HARD MAN. 

ANON. 

A hard, close man was Solomon Ray, 
Nothing of value he gave away ; 
He hoarded and saved ; he pinched and shaved, 
And the more he had the more he craved. 



108 paddy's version op 

The hard-earned dollars he toiled to gain 
Brought him little but care and pain ; 
For little he spent, and all he lent 
He made it bring him twenty per cent. 

Such was the life of Solomon Ray ; 
The years went by and his hair grew gray ; 
His cheeks grew thin, and his soul within 
Grew hard as the dollars he worked to win. 

But he died one day, as all men must, 
For life is fleeting, and man but dust ; 
The heirs were gay that laid him away 
And that was the end of Solomon Ray. 

They quarreled now, who had little cared 
For Solomon Ray while his life was spared, 
His lands were sold, and his hard-earned gold 
All went to the lawyers, I am told. 

Yet men will cheat, and pinch and save, 
Nor carry their treasures beyond the grave ; 
All there gold some day will melt away, 
Like the selfish savings of Solomon Ray. 



PADDY'S VERSION OP " EXCELSIOR. 

ANON. 

Twas growing dark so terrible fasht, 
Whin through a town up the mountain there pashed 
A broth of a boy, to his neck in the shnow, 
As he walked, his shillelah he swung to and fro, 
Saying, it's up to the top I'm bound for to go, 
Be jabers ! 

He looked mortial sad, and his eyes were as bright 
As a fire of turf on a cowld winther night, 



paddy's version on "excelsior." 109 

And divil a word that he said could ye tell 
As he opened his mouth and let out a yell, 
It's up till the top of the mountain I'll go, 
Onless covered up with this bothersome slinovv, 
Be jabers ! 

Through the windows he saw, as he traveled along, 
The light of the candles and tires so warm ; 
But a big chunk of ice hung over his head, 
Wid a shnivel and groan, by St. Patrick, he said, 
It's up to the very tip top I will rush, 
And then if it falls it's not meself it'll crush, 
Be jabers ! 



Whist a bit ! said an owld man, whose head was as white 
As the shnow that fell down on that miserable night ; 
Shu re ye'll fall in the wather, me bit of a lad, 
For the night is so dark and the walkin' is bad 
Bedad ! he'd not lisht to a word that was said, 
But he'd go till the top if he went on his head, 
Be jabers ! 

A bright buxom young girl, such as like to be kissed, 
Axed him wadn't he shtop, how could he resist ? 
So, snapping his fingers and winking his eye, 
While shmiling upon her, he made this reply — 
Faith I meant to kape on till I got to the top, 
But as yer shwate self has axed me I may as well shtop, 
Be jabers ! 

He shtopped all night, and he shtopped all day, 
And ye mus'nt be axing whin he did go away ; 
But wouldn't he be a bastely gossoon 
To be lavin' his darlint in the swate honeymoon ? 
Whin the owld man has paraties enough and to spare, 
Shure he moight as well shtay if he's comfortable there, 
Be jabers ! 



110 LOVES. 

LINES ON POOLS. 

In the garb of a clown I've been long on the town, 

And I find, the longer I'm in it, 
That fools will be fools, in spite of all rules, 

And I'll prove it to you in a minute. 
There's the merchant or tradesmen, whichever he be, 

Gets deep into debt with another ; 
No money he saves, at least so he raves, 

If he's not a fool — he's more t'other. 
But the greatest fools yet that I ever met, 

Was two girls at words, in high fever, 
Tearing each other's eyes, about a man twice their size, 

That don't care a button about either ; 
For he says that his wife must comfort his life, 

Be a good natured, good tempered, kind one ; 
She never must scold, but do as she's told, 

He's a very great fool if he thinks he can find one. 
I'll own it at once, I'm a bit qf a dunce, 

For the rod came as oft as the book to me ; 
And tho' only a clown I'll bet you a crown, 

I'm not such a fool as I look to be. 



LOVES. 

When a boy at home I lov'd to play, 

And from my school I lov'd to stay. 

I lov'd my marbles and my tops. 

I lov'd to see the sweetmeat shops. 

I lov'd the time when I got sense. 

I lov'd all those who gave me pence. 

I lov'd the time when I grew older. 

I lov'd the sailor and the soldier, 

I lov'd my father and my mother. 

I lov'd my sister and my brother. 

I lov'd old port and Newport, too. 

I lov'd my country through and through. 



MACBETIl's SOLILOQUY ALTERED. Ill 

I lov'd all the pretty little babies. 

But my greatest love is for the ladies. 
Bless their hearts I love them all alike, young or old, short 
or tall, lame or lazy, blind or crazy ; in fact, I am one of 
those kind of fellows I'd pay a proper respect to a lamp post 
if it only had a bonnet on. 

And, oh ! that woman had but one mouth, 

That I may kiss them all from North to South. 



THE POET. 

Yes, I'm a poet. Perhaps you don't know it, but I'll very 
soon show it. So here goes it with Lines upon a Tater. 
Oh sweet ground fruit how well you suit 

The cause of human nature, 
I do declare none can compare 

With thee oh, floury tater. 
Kidney or round, I do be bound, 

Ofttimes have stood the rackets 
Sometimes in ash, sometimes in smash, 

And sometimes in your jackets. 
Oft have I seen young maids so green, 

Your flowry jackets peeling ; 
With pointed knives digging out your eyes, 

They've got no fellow-feeling. 



MACBETH'S SOLILOQUY ALTERED. 

Is this a leg of mutton I see before me, the shank toward my 
hand. Come, let me clutch thee ; I have thee not and yet I 
see thee still. Art thou, leg of mutton, sensible of the in- 
ward craving I feel, or art thou placed upon that spit to 
mock my hunger ? I see thee yet smoking hot and pleasing to 
my sight, in form as palatable as any leg of mutton placed in 
a cookshop window, and from its substance delicious drops of 
beautiful gravy falls. I'll steal this leg ; there is no one 



112 THE DECK HAND AND THE MULE. 

near but the cook, and dreams or fat and dripping- haunt her 
curlined sleep ; thou, greasy hearthstone, hear not my step 
lest the cat, who curls its tail in front of the fire, should 
mollrow of my whereabouts. I'll bone the leg and then the 
mutton will be done. Hist ! soft, I have it ! I got it. Ah, a 
bell ; that is the dinner bell. Hear it not for 'tis a knell, that 
shall the want of a leg of mutton tell. 



THE DECK HAND AND THE MULE. 

The mule stood on the steamboat deck, 

The land he would not tread : 
They pulled the halter round his neck 

And whacked him o'er the head. 

But obstinate and braced he stood, 

As born the scene to rule — 
A creature of the hold back brood, 

A stubborn, steadfast mule. 

They cursed and swore : he would not go 

Until he felt inclined ; 
And, though they thundered blow on blow, 

He altered not his mind. 

The deck hand to the shore complained, 
" The varmint's bound to stay !" 

And still upon the critter's hide 
A sounding lash made play. 

His master, from the shore, replied, 

"The boat's about to sail ; 
As other means in vain you've tried, 

Suppose you twist his tail, 

It's likely that will make him land !" 
The deck hand, brave, though pale, 

The nearer drew, with outstretched hand, 
To make the twist avail. 



JACK SPRAT. 113 

Then came a kick of thunder sound ; 

The deck hand — where was he ? 
Ask of the waves, that far around 

Beheld him in the sea. 

A moment, not a voice was heard, 

But winked the mule his eye 
As though to ask to him occurred — 

" Now, how was that for high ?" 

" Just cut his throat ! " the captain roared, 

" And end the awful brute." 
But the noblest soul who perished there 

Was he who tried to do't. 



JACK SPRAT. 

W. W. DAVIS. 

Jack Sprat could eat no fat, 

His wife could eat no lean ; 
So 'twlxt them both they cleared the plate, 

And licked the platter clean.— Mother Goose. 

This poem has always been much admired. It is not so 
long as the Fairy Queen ; it does not deal with such lofty 
events as Paradise Lost, but delights us with a familiar scene 
from lowly. The style is simple, the language understood 
by a child, and there is an entire absence of that foolish 
imagery which spoils so many excellent productions. 

In regard to John Sprat's boyhood the poet says not a word. 
Was he a sweet infant? At what age did he cease to crawl? 
As a lad did he tear his trowsers? Did his conduct ever re- 
quire his mother to apply her shoe to his frame? All these 
and similar inquiries must remain forever unanswered. 

One point, however, is certain : John was tenderly raised, 
for he could eat no fat. Poor, ragged children, playing all 
day around the gutters, have an appetite like an ostrich. 



114 JACK SPRAT. 

They swallow any tiling. But little John must \&ve had a 
dainty palate ; the very sight of fat, perhaps, was grievous 
to him, and so his indulgent mother cut it off, and let her 
darling go it on his muscle. 

John Sprat was not blind to the charms of the girls. He 
was married. Mrs. Sprat may have had golden ringlets, ruby 
lips, pearly teeth, and an alabaster brow, but it is all con- 
jecture as to the beauty. There is no allusion to her temper, 
but we have good grounds for believing that she never threw 
the teapot at John's head. 

Whatever softness may have rendered Mrs. Sprat attractive 
as a maiden, in middle life she doubtless became very coarse. 
She could eat no lean. Fat seems to have been her delight. 
The good woman ought to have lived with the Esquimaux, 
and fed on blubber. Everything she put into her mouth, we 
may suppose, had to be well greased ; and we will not be far 
wrong in naming fried cakes, goose gravy, salad swimming 
in oil, and toast floating in butter, as her favorite diet. 

The third and fourth lines of the poem present us a cheer- 
ful scene of domestic life. Dinner is ready. The delicate 
John takes his seat at one end of the table, the overgrown 
Mrs. Sprat at the other. No children are mentioned. The 
boys .may be in the White Pine silver mines, the girls may 
be learning millinery with their aunt. Between the vener- 
able couple smokes a huge dish of bacon. In imagination we 
can see John take the carving-knife, skillfully dissect the 
savory mass, politely pass the fat to his aged consort, and 
keep the meat for himself. Happy pair ! How lovingly they 
must have dwelt together in their declining years I In the 
warmth of their affection, even the poor cat is cheated of her 
dues, for holding the dish between them, every trace of gravy 
is swept away. 



THE ASS AND THE VIOLINIST. 115 

A WORD WITH YOU. 

ANON. 

Young man, don't get too foxy. If you happen to get in 
possession of a few dollars, act just as you did before you got 
them. Don't swell up and burst ! If you have a good share 
of brains you won't do this ; you will remember that neither 
money, clothes nor good looks make the man, and that worth 
is as often garbed in a ragged coat as in broadcloth. Don't 
stand on hotel steps, dangling your watch chain, and talking 
** hoss." Those who load themselves ■with airs are the 
smallest kind of potatoes, and the fewest in the hill. A fat 
job often spoils young men of weak minds. They immedi- 
ately commence to dress fine, and take great pride in culti- 
vating an aldermanac corporosity and a sporting air. Sen- 
sible people are always disgusted with such actions when 
they deign to notice them, which is very seldom. 



THE ASS AND THE VIOLINIST— A FABLE. 

John G. Saxe. 
Within the fields, one summer day, 
A strong-lunged ass began to bray ; 
The uplands echoed back his voice- 
To hear it made his heart rejoice. 

'* Ah, what a pity ! " cried the ass, 
" That I should longer feed on grass ; 
My lungs are strong, my voice is loud, 
At concerts I might draw a crowd ; 

List to my music, how it fills 
The valleys sleeping 'mong the hills ; 
'Tis sweet, I know, for, look ! see what 
Great ears for music I have got." 

A great musician heard the din 
While passing with his violin ; 



116 THE ASS AND THE VIOLINIST. 

He stopped awhile upon his way 
And bade the old ass cease to bray. 

" My long-eared friend," the fiddler said, 
"This neighborhood must wish you dead ; 
For worse than any sounding brass 
Is your coarse braying, Mr. Ass ; 
If you wish music, cease your din, 
And listen to my violin." 

He rubbed the rosin on his bow ; 

He tried the notes both high and low ; 

Making a stone do for a chair, 

He played a grand, soul-stirring air. 

Ere he had ceased his tune to play, 
The ass began again to bray ; 
Nor violin, nor song of bird 
Could for a moment then be heard. 

At last the old ass dropped his head, 
And to the old musician said : 
" Music is sound, my friend, you see — 
Therefore all sounds must music be ; 
Of mine the world will be the proudest, 
Because, my friend, it is the loudest." 

What more could the musician say ? 
What further do than let him bray ? 
He wandered off through twilight dim — 
Ass wisdom was too much for him. 

CONCLUSION. 

How many men we daily pass 
Who reason like this braying ass ! 
They grow to men from braggart boys, 
And think that brains must make a noise ; 
They gain high seats in synagogues, 
No mystery their vision fogs ; 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 117 

Whene'er they lack for argument 
They give their store of gas a vent ; 
And wise men whisper, as they pass, 
" There goes a self -conceited ass," 



BOMEO AND JULIET. 

It was in ancient Italy a deadly hatred grew 

Between old Caleb Capulet and Moses Montague ; 

Now Moses had an only son, a little dapper beau, 

The pet of all the pretty girls, by name young Romeo. 

And Caleb ownad a female girl, just home from boarding 

school, 
Miss Juliet was her Christian name — for short they called her 

Jule. 
To bring the lady out he gave a ball at his plantation, 
And thither went young Romeo, without an invitation. 
One Tybalt, kinsman to the host, began to growl and pout, 
And watched an opportunity to put the fellow out ; 
But Caleb saw the game and said, " Now, cousin, don't be 

cross ; 
Behave yourself or leave the room ; are you or I the boss ? " 
When Juliet saw Romeo his beauty did enchant her ; 
And Romeo he fell in love with Juliet instanter. 
Now, lest their dads should spoil the fun, but little time was 

tarried, 
Away to 'Squire Lawrence sped, and secretly were married, 
©h, cruel fatel that day the groom met Tybalt in the square, 
And Tybalt being very drunk, at Romeo did swear. 
Then Romeo his weapon drew (a knife of seven blades), 
And made a gap in Tibby's ribs, that sent him to the shades. 
The watchman came ; he took to flight, down alley, street 

and square ; 
The Charlies ran, o'ertook their man, and took him 'fore the 

Mayor. 
Then spoke the worthy magistrate (and savagely did frown), 
'• Young man, you have to lose your head, or else vamose the 

town ! " 



118 ROMEO AND JULIET. 

He cliose tlie last, and left his bride in solitude to pine ; 
" Ah me ! " said he, " our honeymoon is nothing but moon- 
shine ;" 
And then, to make the matter worse, her father did embarrass 
By saying she must give her hand to noble County Paris. 
" This suitor is a goodly youth ; to-day he comes to woo ; 
If you refuse the gentleman I'll soundly wollop you." 
She went to 'Squire Lawrence's cell to know what must be 

done ; 
The 'Squire bade her to go to bed and take some laudanum. 
" 'Twill make you sleep and seem as dead ; thus can'st thou 

dodge this blow ; 
A humbugged man your pa will be — a blest one Romeo." 
She drank, she slept, grew wan and cold ; they buried her 

next day. 
That she'd piped out her lord got word, far off in Mantua ; 
Quoth he, "Of live I've had enough; I'll hire Bluffkin's 

mule, 
Lay in a pint of baldface rum and go to-night to Jule ! " 
Then rode him to the sepulchre, 'mong dead folks, bats and 

creepers, 
And swallowed down the burning dose, when Juliet ope'd her 

peepers. 
"Are you alive, or is't your ghost? Speak quick, before 

I go." 
" Alive ! " she cried, *' and kicking too ; art thou my Romeo f* 
" It is your Romeo, my faded little blossom ; 
Oh Juliet ! is it possible that you were acting possum?" 
"I was, indeed; now let's go home; pa's spite will have 

abated ; 
What ails you, love, you stagger so ; are you intoxicated?" 
" No, no, my duck ; I took some stuff that caused a little 

fit;" 
He struggled hard to tell her all, but couldn't, so he quit. 
In shorter time than't takes a lamb to wag his tail or jump, 
Poor Romeo was stiff and pale as any whitewashed pump. 
Then Juliet seized that awful knife, and in her bosom stuck 

it, 
Let out a most terrific yell, fell down, and kicked the bucket J 



A ROMANCE IN A THIMBLE. 119 

THE STATE OF THE MARKET. 

Dealers in hardware say they never found things as hard 
as now ; that tin plates are Hat, lead heavy, iron dull, spades 
not trumps, and more rakes in the market than are inquired 
after ; brass is, however, in demand for politicians ; brads 
are also in request, but holders cannot be got to fork them 
out ; nails wont go by pushing and have to be driven. The 
dry goods merchants say their cases are hard, and complain 
that people prefer the bank rags to theirs ; in paints every- 
thing looks black, though many try to varnish the thing over. 
Shippers of ashes have had to add sackcloth to them, as pros- 
pects are by no means pearly, and prices are going to pot. 
The timber trade is pining, and holders have to rest ury\>i 
their oars to stave off the pressure. There is no spirit in the 
rum trade, and holders of vinegar look sour ; champagne, 
however, is brisk. Rhubarb and senna are quite drugs, but 
there is a consumption of brimstone for matches, many hav- 
ing been made. Holders of indigo look blue, but those deep 
red are not green enough to think that a symptom of the 
trade dying. Starch is stiffening, and paper is stationery. In 
the meal market things are floury, but the millers say that 
the high prices of wheat go against their grain ; at which 
the bakers are also crusty. The grocers have got along quite 
spicy, and have had no cause to get peppery, because they 
have given the public lots of gammon, and so saved their ba- 
con. There is no life in dead hogs, but some animation in 
old cheese. 



A ROMANCE IN A THIMBLE. 

It was near midnight towards the close of the afternoon, on 
a suttry morning in December, one thousand eight hundred 
and fast asleep, when the burning moon was setting in the 
eastern sky, casting a brilliant shadow upon the gorgeous 
clouds which entirely obscured the firmament, and the un- 
clouded sun sending down its noonday beams, with an inten- 
sity of heat like the shrieking of heavy thunder through the 



120 A ROMANCE IN A THIMBLE. 

deep mountain gorges of the western prairies. In the ensuing 
autumn, about two years previous to the above merry catas- 
trophe, two pedestrians might have been seen riding on horse- 
back in a three-wheeled carriage up to the brow of a preci- 
pice, under the side of a forest which had been cut down be- 
fore the trees had begun to take root ; they were engaged in 
eating their evening dinner by the roadside in the arms of 
Morpheus. The eldest of the three gentlemen was a young 
lady of about fifty-three, and about two years younger than 
the other man, which latter gentleman was, from the manner 
in which she addressed him, her only and youngest daughter. 
The remainder of her dress consisted of two pair of panta- 
loons neatly buttoned round the tops of her ears, and attached 
by a golden strap of unwoven silk to the axletree of the mid- 
dle-aged gentleman's horse. The third individual last men- 
tioned was an old gentleman of about twenty-two, whose 
venerable features disclosed the livid hue of the Siberian ne- 
gro ; his bald head was profusely covered with long silver 
locks of jet, and which he had evidently lost during a severe 
attack of sea sickness caught from his next door neighbor, 
who resided several miles further up the country. He was 
richly clothed in a worn-out frock-coat which was secured by 
straps under his boots ; his feet was bare, and, save his 
gloves, he had no other garments to shield him from the 
balmy atmosphere; he had lost his arms just above the col- 
lar bone, and was constrained to wear crutches ; this, added 
to total blindness, rendered him an object of general admira- 
tion, and as he flew along the subterranean passage, towards 
the iron door of the dungeon, a giant voice exclaimed, "To* 
be continued in our next." 



THE END. 



COMMON 



Being a Complete Treatise on the Art of Cooking Every Variety of Food in Com- 
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THE WORKS OIF SIK^KZEsipiE^IRIE] ,' 

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needs no eulogy from meaner men. 
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